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lyranova · 4 years ago

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Children of the Future:

Chapter 6: A New Addition

Hi guys! Sorry this chapter took a bit, but its done! The next one shouldn’t take that long though! Anyway I apologize this chapter isn’t very good, I’m a little tired 😅. I hope you all enjoy~!

Taglist: @eme-eleff @crazyclownthanos @talpup @jovialnoise (if anyone wants to be added please let me know!)

Word Count: 2,398

Warnings: None

———

Zora sighed as he slowly packed his stuff up, he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. That he had, not one child, but two with a complete stranger! It was mind boggling, he didn’t know that woman from Adam and yet he had kids with her in the future! He sat on his bed and shook his head, how did he get into this mess? Why did it have to be him?! He never even imagined himself with kids, sure maybe one day he would have them, but not now! Especially not two teenagers!

He shook his head as he heard Vanessa call him, he knew he was taking too long and if he was anymore late the Captain would probably drag him out of the house himself. Zora sighed as he grabbed his bag and walked out of the room and down the hall into the common room, where all the Black Bull members currently sat.

“ Well of all the members to have kids, you were the one I was least expecting!” Magna said in surprise, Zora made a hmph noise in response.

“ Yeah, you and me both. Especially with a complete stranger, and a prissy stranger no less.” Zora grumbled before letting out a sigh. “ I’d better get going before the Captain comes after me.” He added before walking out of the hideout.

“ Good luck! You’re going to need it!” Magna shouted after him, Zora gave a short wave before shutting the door behind him, hopping onto his broom, and flying towards his temporary home.

——

“ Shut up Solid!” Nebra shouted at her younger brother, who was currently laughing his tail off at her. Nozel had told him why he and Nebra had been summoned to the Wizard King and he thought it was a joke at first, but once he saw the look on his older siblings' faces he couldn’t stop laughing. At all.

“ I-I’m sorry Nebra, but this, this is too funny!” Solid said between fits of laughter, he was sitting in her chair by the window and was about to fall out of it he was laughing so hard.

“ Maybe to you it is! Imagine having a child, no correction, children with a complete stranger and according to said children you’re happily married to each other!” Nebra rounded on her brother, he suppressed his laughter for a few moments before standing up.

“ I can only imagine sister. You, on the other hand, are living it!” He said with a smirk, she grabbed a shoe and threw it at him before she grabbed her bag and walked out of her room.

“ I still don’t understand why we have to move in with all of them, I’d much rather be here than with the Black Bulls and all those kids.” Nebra grumbled as she walked outside their home and towards her broom, with Solid following behind her.

“ Because it’ll be easier to keep tabs on everyone if you’re all in one place.” Nozel said as he walked up to his sister, causing her and Solid to jump, they hadn’t seen him standing in the shadows.

“ I figured that out! But why couldn’t the Wizard King put a magical tracing spell on us or something?!” Nebra exclaimed in exasperation, she did not want to leave and stay with complete strangers in some dump out in the middle of the woods when she had a comfortable home right here!

“ Because those kinds of spells can be altered or other mages can track them. For now, all of you must be kept in hiding. Just until we can figure this out.” Nozel said with a sigh before handing his sister a broom. “ You’ll have to use this to get there. The Wizard Kings orders.”

Nebra looked from the broom to her older brother and back again, he wasn’t serious. Was he? There was no way she was using that!

“ You’ll have to use this to get around, if I were to fly you there using my mercury magic everyone would know something was amiss. So, for now, this will be your mode of transportation.” Nozel said shoving the broom into her hands and walking away, Solid snickered behind her before following his brother inside.

Nebra huffed as she inspected it, she was a royal not some commoner or peasant, she should be able to travel luxuriously not like this! But she sighed, her brother had basically ordered her to use this stupid thing without actually ordering her too. She quickly sat on it, using her mana to levitate it off the ground, and flew to her new ‘home’.

‘Why? Why me?!’

———

“ Took you two long enough!” Yami grumbled as Nebra and Zora walked in, the two looked anything but happy. They had arrived at the same time and did nothing but glare at one another. This was going to go great. Yami shook his head as he helped Charlotte finish dinner. She said it was some sort of stew her family used to have when she was growing up. From what he could tell it didn’t smell too bad, it would be anything like what Charmy cooked, but he hoped it would be close enough.

“ Sorry Captain. There was traffic.” Zora said as he walked over to one of the chairs and sat down, Zebra rolled her eyes at his lame excuse and walked over to the chair opposite him and sat down as well.

“ Traffic my ass. You were stalling, both of you.” Yami glared at the red haired mage, who only shrugged in response. While the silver haired mage just ‘hmphed’ and looked away. Yami sighed as he looked over at Charlotte, they were both thinking the same thing.

This was going to be a nightmare.

“ Guys! Dinners ready!” Charlotte shouted as she walked over to the dining table and set the pot of stew down. Yami grabbed the bowls, glasses, and a few pitchers of water before he began to set the table, it was the least he could do since he wasn’t much help cooking.

The magic knights looked up as Hikari, Josslyn, and Ace walked into the room. Ace’s face lit up when he saw his ‘mother’ and he quickly walked over and sat down next to her, much to Nebra’s surprise, while Josslyn sat next to Zora.

“ I hope you all like this, I haven't cooked in a while so I can’t promise it’ll be very edible.” Charlotte said a little nervously as she sat down at one end of the table, Yami sat at the other end and Hikari sat on his left side.

“ I’m sure it’ll be fine, Prickly Princess.” Yami said with a shrug as he and the others began to fill up their bowls.

Dinner passed by awkwardly.

The families all didn’t really know what to say to each other, there were a few comments made complimenting Charlotte’s cooking, while there was a little idle chatter between Hikari and Josslyn. But what really made things awkward were the looks Nebra and Zora were giving each other. They just kept glaring at each other, and making snarky comments towards one another the entire evening. Poor Ace just looked between them with a sad look on his face, he couldn’t believe these were his parents, he just couldn’t!

“ Well, this is awkward.” Josslyn commented as they all sat there in silence, Hikari laughed softly before nodding in agreement.

“ Yes it is. But I think it’s mostly because we all don’t really know each other yet. As time passes we’ll all become more comfortable around each other.” Hikari said as she took a sip of water. Charlotte nodded in agreement.

“ She’s right. This is an adjustment for all of us. It’s going to take longer than a few hours or a couple of days for us to kind of get a sense of each other.” Charlotte turned as Zora snorted.

“ I dunno, you three seem pretty comfortable already.” Zora pointed at Yami, Hikari, and Charlotte before drinking his own glass of water. The three in question looked at each other in surprise.

He wasn’t wrong. The three had only known each other for a day at most, and yet they were already pretty comfortable around each other. Yami helped Charlotte cook dinner, which wasn’t something he normally did. Charlotte had asked Hikari if she had any boyfriends, which was something she didn’t normally ask people. It was strange.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and all 7 people turned towards it. Yami and Charlotte looked at each other before standing up and walking towards it, Yami had a hand on his Katana as Charlotte had her grimoire at the ready. Zora and Nebra stood as well, ready to give the Captain’s back up should they need it. Ace stood and ran towards his older sister and hid slightly behind her, the pink hair girl had her grimoire out as did Hikari. They all waited with baited breath as Yami slowly opened the door.

“ Vangeance?” Yami said in surprise as he opened the door wider to reveal the masked Captain of the Golden Dawn. As well as a white haired young man that stood next to him, a small smile on his face.

“ Ah Yami, it’s good to see you. Julius said you would be here. May I come in?” William asked politely, he nodded and moved aside to allow them in. Charlotte frowned slightly.

“ What are you doing here?” She asked as she crossed her arms, William laughed somewhat sheepishly which only confused her more.

“ Well, you see-.” William didn’t get to finish his sentence before Hikari interrupted.

“ Alistar?!” She quickly put her grimoire away and walked around the table to look at him. She couldn’t believe it, he actually made it! Well, of course he made it, she didn’t have a single doubt in her mind that he wouldn’t. But still, she couldn’t help but feel relieved to know he was here safe. She was his bodyguard afterall.

“ Hikari. It’s good to see you made it here in one piece.” Alistar said warmly, he felt a wave of relief wash over him at the sight of her. She was here, and she was safe. He may not have looked it on the outside, but on the inside his stomach had been in knots the entire way here, he was worried sick about her. Sure she could handle herself if she had too. But that still didn’t mean he couldn’t worry about her.

“ Oh great, pretty boy’s here.” Josslyn grumbled as she say back down and glared slightly at him, Alistar chuckled even though she was glaring icly at him, his warm smile still remained.

“ It’s good to see you too, Josslyn.” Alistar answered shortly, yet still polite. He noticed Ace still standing next to his sister and he gave the young boy a small wave, which was returned. “ It’s good to see you as well Ace.”

“ What? Were you worried about me Golden Boy?” Hikari asked, quickly changing the subject. Alistar’s smile turned into a bit of a smirk at her question.

“ Not at all. I knew you’d be ok. After all, I wouldn’t have made you my bodyguard otherwise.” Alistar said, but a knowing look passed between the two. He hadn’t asked her to be his bodyguard, she appointed herself his bodyguard shortly after they had met.

“ Uh-huh, whatever you say, Golden Boy.” She said with a shake of her head before walking up to him. She gave him a once over, probably to check for any injuries, before nodding in satisfaction that he was in fact ok. But oddly she didn’t notice Alistar had done the exact same thing. She was usually very observant.

“ Honestly though, I’m glad you’re ok.” Hikari suddenly looked up at him, and Alistar’s heart stopped dead in his chest.

She was smiling, not a smirk or a half smile like she normally would give him. But a smile. One that showed she was truly relieved to see him here, to see that he was ok. It was a warm friendly smile, and it caused Alistar’s heart to stop. No one knew he had a crush on the young Sukehiro, he had done his best to keep it hidden from people, but she made it very difficult to hide when she smiled at him like that. Alistar looked away and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

“ Thank you, I’m glad you’re ok as well.” He told her kindy, he mentally face palmed himself. ‘Seriously?! That’s all you can say? Just repeating what she told you?!’ His mind shouted at him, anytime she showed her kinder and softer side he always became tongue tied and his mind would go blank. He was suddenly pulled out of his thoughts as Hikari grabbed his wrist and dragged him to the table.

“ You’re looking thin and pale. C’mon, some of mom’s stew should fill you up!” She told him as she dragged him to the table, pushed him into the chair, and put a bowl and spoon in front of him.

The adults watched the exchange curiously, all the kids seem to know each other, and know each other pretty well. Yami turned to look at William.

“ Alistar’s your son I take it?” He asked before crossing his arms, William nodded.

“ He is. Which is why Julius sent us here.” William said before walking over to the couch and sitting down, Zora and Nebra walked over to others as well, deciding to let the kids all hang out together in the dining room.

“ How did you find him?” Charlotte asked curiously as she sat down as well.

“ We didn’t. He found us.” William said with a small laugh before leaning forward, Yami sat down across from him and leaned back in his chair.

“ I take it that’s what you were going to explain when the kids started catching up?” Yami asked and, again, William nodded.

“ Yes, I was. It’s a long story.” William took a breath before he began to explain his meeting with Julius and Alistar.

———

Again I apologize this chapter isn’t very good. But I hope you all enjoyed, thanks for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#children of the future #black clover fanfiction #yami sukehiro #charlotte roselei #zora ideale #nebra silva #oc; alistar #oc; hikari #hikari is not my oc #oc; josslyn #josslyn is not my oc #oc; ace #ace is not my oc #black clover oc

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1dffexchange · 6 years ago

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Making Moments

To: Lisa @tinyfelthat

From: Ally @allywrites

Summary: Jasmine Moore has had a tough year. Her first chance of redemption in 2019 is to attend her cousin’s wedding and make the best of it. She’s determined to make it out alive despite most of the guests knowing the embarrassing truth about her recent breakup - one that nearly ruined any plans of a civil wedding party. Now, with her ex uninvited, she needs to play nice with his replacement - a cocky, charming, and aggravating addition brought in last minute to ensure an equal number of bridesmaids and groomsmen.

Making Moments - a one-shot about champagne, smiling through the pain, and debating the true meaning of a quarter-life crisis.

“Another, please,” I asked the bartender, pushing my glass toward his side of the counter.

He gave me a look of commiseration before grabbing a bottle of Bourbon. As it was only four p.m., the bar was virtually empty save for me and the waitstaff setting up for dinner.

I felt pathetic, drinking alone at a hotel bar in the middle of the afternoon on the eve of my cousin’s wedding.

“Cheers,” I said to him lamely, raising my glass before downing the Old Fashioned in two swallows.

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly describe this as a cheery sight.”

I flinched at the voice coming from beside me. The intruder pulled out the stool to my right and sat down.

I turned to glare at the man occupying so much space so close to me. His hair was styled neatly on his head, and his eyes looked too cheerful for my liking. I wanted to know how this person felt comfortable enough to walk up to a stranger and make a judgmental comment as a way of greeting.

“Can I help you?” I asked bluntly. If he wasn’t one for making positive first impressions, I felt no need to reciprocate.

“Yes, actually,” he replied, smirking. I rolled my eyes, turning back to the bar, expecting to hear a god-awful pickup line or something as equally cringe-worthy. “You’re going to make us late for our date.”

Admittedly, I hadn’t heard that one before, but I was not impressed. At my silence, he continued.

“Jasmine.”

I turned my head sharply to look at him.

“How do you know my name?”

He smirked, taking my glass out of my hand and putting on the other side of the bar, out of my reach.

“I told you,” he replied. “I’m your date tonight. To Thalia and Niall’s rehearsal and dinner.”

“But I don’t know you,” I said, staring at him, dumbfound.

“I’m the replacement groomsman. For the dickhead that got himself uninvited.”

I paused, trying to process everything. “Replacement groomsman?” I repeated.

“Yeah, Niall was telling me about him the other night. Wouldn’t say all that much but mentioned that he was a snobby sod with his head up his arse.” The man shrugged and my mouth hung open like that of a dead fish. “I never met the guy, but I know you must have to do something outrageously foolish to get uninvited to any event of Niall Horan and Thalia Moore.”

I pressed my lips together, trying to collect my racing thoughts. There was a new groomsman? I supposed it made sense, logically thinking about how much of the wedding and rehearsal procedures required bridesmaids and groomsmen to move in pairs. I couldn’t believe Thalia hadn’t told me though.

Interpreting my silence as invitation to keep rambling, he continued. “Niall couldn’t even kill a spider in uni, and when I went to do it, he’d yell and tell me to ‘let him outside.’ And Niall used to make this god-awful taco casserole for dinner, and Thalia ate it once a week for three months even though she hated it! She didn’t say a word to him about it because she knew it was one of the only meals he knew how to cook.”

In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to agree. It was entirely out of character for Thalia and Niall to uninvite a guest to an event of theirs. But I was just trying to digest the fact that Thalia had invited this chatty, boisterous man to accompany me throughout tonight and tomorrow – and hadn’t told me about it.

Meanwhile, this man was continuing to talk my ear off. I turned to him, checking my watch and deciding that it was time to go. When he didn’t pick up on my various cues of being ready for departure, including taking my jacket off the barstool from behind me and standing and slinging my purse over my shoulder, I lost what little patience I had.

“Excuse me,” I interrupted. “One of the very first things you said to me was an insinuation that I would make us late. Yet here you are, chatting my ear off with all of this nonsense. And I don’t even know your name.”

That shut him up. I relaxed my shoulders a bit, grateful for the momentary silence, no matter how brief.

“I’m Harry.” After a moment, he stuck out his hand, and I decided that while my [lack of] manners may not have been my finest attribute, I would never be rude enough to refuse a handshake.

“Jasmine,” I replied, although it was clear he already knew that.

“Nice to meet you.”

I didn’t reply, just tried my best to smile in return. When he remained silent as well, I shrugged my jacket on over my shoulders.

“Well then,” I sighed. “Guess we should be heading to the church.”

He waited patiently as I gathered my things, but the smirk on his face left me remaining uneasy.

“Isn’t it a sin to walk into a church drunk?”

I glared at him. “I’m not drunk,” I argued, but standing up left me feeling a little uneasy on my feet.

I headed toward the lobby, knowing that he would follow behind me. He rushed to stay near.

“How did you know where to find me?” I eventually asked as we walked toward the limousine where I’m sure the bride, groom, and the rest of the bridal party were already waiting.

“Thalia sent me out to hunt down a prickly-looking ginger with tattoos. I saw you at the bar and figured you must be the one.”

I would have made a snarky comment in reply, but the driver had already opened the door, revealing Thalia, Niall, and the eight other members of our party. We were greeted warmly, and I slunk into the vehicle, sliding over to allow Harry some room.

Thalia caught my eye, and her expression was intense. She was trying to read me like a book, and I prayed that my face gave nothing of my internal stress away. Finally, she smiled, reaching over and taking my hand.

I will make it through this weekend, I promised myself. And I will not allow my unhappiness to become a blight in Thalia’s special day.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As soon as my alarm clock went off at five o’clock the following morning, I knew I was not destined to have a good day.

Rubbing my eyes, remnants of last night’s rehearsal dinner makeup smudging on my cheeks, I turned over, harshly tapping the silence alarm button on my phone. I stared blankly at the hotel room around me, trying my best to gather the courage to get my ass out of bed and face the day like an adult. Huffing, I threw back the covers and shoved my feet into my slippers by the bed. I walked over to the small coffee pot by the mini fridge, pouring in water as the shower heated up.

Standing underneath the warm water, I wished that the burden of what the day would bring would wash away like the leftover mascara smudged underneath my eyes.

If he were here, Adam would’ve kissed me good morning before slinking quietly out of the hotel room to join Niall and the other groomsmen.

Stop thinking about him, I chastised myself. He’s not worth it.

It didn’t take me long to get ready, knowing that in a few hours, someone else would be doing my hair and makeup for me. I found a pair of leggings and a cozy sweater, grabbing my robe from the back of the door. I opened the closet to reveal a garment bag and a pair of delicate heels on the floor beneath.

I unzipped the bag a bit, glaring at the tight, black material. I was worried that it wouldn’t fit as well as it did during the initial fitting back in September. I loved Thalia with my whole heart, but a wedding in January sounded like the worst time of year. Not only was the weather usually crappy, but I felt the cushion of some extra pounds after the holidays. Deciding not to risk it, I talked myself out of walking down to the continental breakfast and making a waffle, sticking to just the coffee until I at least was zipped into the dress.

Arms loaded with my dress, shoes, and accessories, I headed downstairs to the conference room my aunt had reserved for the bridal party to get ready.

Despite arriving 10 minutes before the decided time, I was the last to show up. My cousin, Thalia, the beaming bride-to-be, was in a chair having her hair brushed by a stylist, a curling wand heating up off to the side.

“Jazzy!” Thalia called to me. “Good morning!”

I smiled, shutting the door behind me to keep the music coming from a speaker on the wall from bleeding into the quiet hallway. Hanging up my dress on a rack, I walked over to where she was seated. Her skin was glowing, her smile was beautiful, and she looked completely at ease.

“You look so beautiful, Thalia,” I told her, leaning into her outstretched arms.

“I’m not even ready yet!” she laughed.

“Still,” I said. “You’re excited?”

“Oh, Jasmine,” she told me, clutching my hands. “I can’t wait.”

I smiled at her, squeezing her hand, the diamond on her fourth finger glistening in the sunlight coming in from the window. I was sure I didn’t let my face betray me as I thought about a ring that had been on my finger only a month and a half prior – a stunning diamond with a beautiful silver band – but Thalia’s face fell slightly anyway.

“I’m so thankful you’re here. I know this day won’t be easy for you.”

I kept myself composed, setting her hand back down in her lap.

Shrugging, I said, “You’re my best friend. Nothing could keep me away.”

Thankfully, my Aunt Claire chose that moment to beckon the photographer over, inviting her to get shots of Thalia throughout her process of getting ready. I stepped out of the way, eyeing the trays of pastries with a glare before moving safely toward the other side of the room. I wasn’t very familiar with any of the members of the bridal apart from the maid-of-honor, Thalia’s childhood best friend. We had played together at many of Thalia’s birthday parties, had both been invited to the same sleepovers at my Aunt Claire and Uncle Ian’s.

She handed me a mimosa and a coffee as I walked over to greet her.

“Jasmine,” she grinned. “You look beautiful. I love your hairstyle.”

“Thank you, Eva,” I replied, adjusting my hair over my shoulder. “I decided to go with a shorter look.”

“It suits you,” she replied kindly.

Before I could say any more, we were being rushed to our designated chairs to be primped, plucked, and prodded.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Two more mimosas, three complaints from the stylist about what she would do with my short hair, and four near-crises involving the flower delivery, we were finally ready to head over to the chapel. I stood by the window, wrap over my shoulders. Looking at the white snow outside, I knew this draping shawl would do more for fashion than it would for function. I might not even have to worry about surviving so many awkward interactions during the wedding reception if I froze to death during the pictures beforehand. No need to worry about the How are you doings or the Have you spoken with Adam lately? No questions about my quest back into the dating game.

I was debating forgoing the shawl altogether, just for the increased risk of hypothermia, when I saw a flash of white out of the corner of my eye.

I turned, taking in Thalia in all of her glory.

Her dress was beautiful, a simple A-line skirt of chiffon, lace sleeves making the dress look delicate but suitable for winter. Her blonde hair was in a gorgeous braid, her veil framing her face.

“Thalia,” I breathed. “You look gorgeous.”

Taking in my closest friend since birth on one of the happiest days of her life, I couldn’t stop my eyes from stinging.

“Stop it!” she chastised, her own eyes becoming wet. She reached to the side and pulled a wad of tissues from the box. “You’ll ruin your makeup and make me ruin my own.”

I took one from her, dabbing beneath my eyes. “I’m so happy for you,” I told her through my sniffles. “Niall is so great. If you’re in the room, he’s beaming at you. I’ve never seen anyone look so in love.”

I was so happy for my cousin, thinking of the bright future ahead of her. Full of happiness and love and little blonde-haired babies. For the first time in what felt like weeks, I wasn’t thinking about my heartbreak or the way I felt like I was floating aimlessly through life.

But I could tell that Thalia had had some mimosas of her own as she tearfully said, “I’m so sorry about Adam.”

I blinked, immediately sobered. I didn’t want to talk about him. And I wanted people to stop acting like he was dead.

“Thalia-” I said, trying to cut her off.

“But to be honest,” she continued. “I never liked him.” She shook her head. “He couldn’t hold a candle to you. And to see you so upset makes me so sad because you’re so much better than him.”

I inhaled sharply, sniffling. “But I’m not,” I said weakly.

She gripped my shoulder, looking me dead in the eye.

“Yes,” she argued. “You are.” She paused for a moment, as if waiting for the words to sink into my skin. “That’s why I told Niall to ask Harry to be his replacement today.” What little energy I had for a conversation like this immediately disappeared at the mention of his name. “Harry will do right by you today.”

Do right by me? I wanted to repeat. What, were we living in the eighteenth century?

I wasn’t going to argue with her, not on her wedding day. I just gave her an exasperated look at took her arm in mine, leading her toward the doors.

“C’mon, then,” I said, ushering her out. “It’s showtime.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

No matter how many wedding scenes I’d watched in movies, there never seemed to be a perfect way to walk down the aisle as a bridesmaid. It was no different in real life. No one cared about me or any of the other four women. All they wanted was to do was see Thalia in her dress and catch a glimpse of Niall as he took in his bride for the first time on their wedding day.

I paced myself as I strolled as carefully as possible down the long stretch flanked by gardenias, Pachelbel’s Canon in D flowing from the piano and the flute accompaniment.

Niall gave me a friendly wink as he caught my eye, looking dapper in his tuxedo. I let my eyes travel down the row of groomsmen, all looking dashing and prepped to perfection. I paused to take in the man with curly hair three people down from Niall, the mirror position of where I would stand on the other side of Thalia.

Harry stood confidently beside the altar, arms folded in front of him. His dark suit framed his form nicely, his hair styled neatly. He had that ever-present glint in his eye as he watched me walk toward the front of the church.

I felt a brief wave of vertigo that I didn’t think was completely due to the mimosas that morning. I tried my best to hide my slight stumble, but it was clear that Harry had caught it. He pressed his lips together to contain his smile as I walked the last few feet.

Everyone stood as the music changed, signaling the arrival of Thalia on the arm of my Uncle Ian. Already knowing how stunning she looked, I turned away from the vestibule of the church, instead looking to Niall.

Niall’s eyes were filled with such an intense amount of love, lust, and longing that I almost felt the need to look away, as if I were intruding on a private moment instead of taking all of the important elements of the wedding ceremony. Against my will, eyes travelled down the line of men again to settle on Harry, who had already been looking at me.

He didn’t look away when our eyes connected, but I did, immediately turning back to Thalia who had now arrived at the altar and was being given away by her father.

By the end of the ceremony, I was hungry and anxious. From the rehearsal yesterday, I knew that I’d have to walk arm-in-arm out of the church with Harry. Then it was time for pictures… once again, most likely paired with Harry.

I didn’t have the patience required look at his stupid, fluffy hair and stupid shiny eyes for hours on end. From the smug look he gave me when he offered his arm, I knew that he was aware of my overall distaste of being in his presence.

Since he couldn’t talk during our exit, walking next to him down the aisle wasn’t all that bad. The limo ride to the location of the pictures, however, was another thing altogether. Harry had opened a bottle of champagne, ignoring my requests that he not hold the bottle so close to the hem of my dress as he opened it. He brushed off my concern, convinced everything would be fine.

However, just as I anticipated, when the cork flew off the top, bubbles overflowed the rim of the bottle, spilling all over the skirt of my dress, soaking right through to the skin of my legs and feet. It was less than ideal, especially considering the freezing temperatures. Harry tried to apologize profusely but I batted him away, digging for some tissues in my clutch and trying my very best to blot away the liquid, thankful that the dress was black and wouldn’t look stained in the pictures

“Oh fuck,” Harry said. “I am so sorry.”

We had the attention of everyone else in the limo, so I limited my reaction to a non-reply. What seemed like hours later, we finally arrived at the site we would be taking pictures. We were told to wait inside the clubhouse while the photographer set up a few scenes.

I went straight over to the fireplace, hoping the heat would dry the hem and leave me feeling less frozen. I gripped my skirt between my fingers, trying to spread the fabric and expose as much of the wet area to the heat as possible. I could hear a group gathering by the bar behind me, but I stayed focused on my task.

“Jazzy!” A voice came from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Niall calling out to me, his arm around Thalia. “Be with the people, love.”

Thalia smiled at me, adjusting Niall’s jacket that was draped over her shoulders as I approached. Half of the groomsmen were outside smoking cigars, Harry included, and the other half were in here drinking more beer. I glanced out the window at the large puffs of gray clouds coming from the men. I couldn’t keep the scowl off my face when I thought about standing next to Harry for pictures, his suit reeking of smoke.

Thalia wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. “You doing alright, lovey?” Her eyes were on me, and despite the fog of intoxication and the smell of champagne on her breath, I knew she was truly concerned.

I softened, placing a hand on her back. “I’m okay,” I said. “I don’t want you to worry about me. It’s your day.”

I needed to get my act together if Niall and Thalia could tell I was upset. Harry may have thought I was bitchy and bitter, and today I certainly hadn’t been acting my best, but Thalia was my best friend and cousin, and Niall was now family.

“Did something happen?”

I shook my head, thanking any deity above that the photographer chose that moment to call Thalia and Niall outside.

Tail between my legs, I made my way out to the outdoor patio when the photographer called Thalia and Niall outside for pictures. Harry’s eyes were locked on me as soon as he heard me open the door. I needed to clutch the fencing surrounding the brick as I wobbled on my fee. Champagne and an empty stomach did not go hand-in-hand.

At this point, if not for the alcohol, my blood sugar would have probably sent me spiraling into a coma. There’d been no time to squeeze in any snacks between finally getting the dress zipped and heading out to the church.

I shifted my weight as I stood in front of Harry, my feet aching. Couldn’t they have anticipated this long wait between the ceremony and dinner? Thalia and Niall had run off somewhere to frolic through the snow and the growling emitting from my stomach was sounding less like a nagging reminder and more like a beastly threat.

“This is always the worst part of the wedding, innit?” Harry said by way of greeting.

“What’s the worst part?” I asked.

“The ‘hurry up and wait’ of it all,” he continued. “Sit through the ceremony and then be rewarded with a two-hour wait before food.”

“A couple spreads of hors-d’oeuvres would have done a wonder of good,” I agreed wryly, bringing the flute of champagne back up to my lips

I glanced through the windows to the room inside in despair, not a veggie platter or spare cracker in sight. My stomach whined again at the thought.

There was a moment of awkwardness as we formed some sort of connection over our shared dissatisfaction at the extra time before the reception officially began.

“You’re hungry?” he asked, hearing my stomach growl. I watched him as he unbuttoned his coat. “You should’ve just said.”

He reached a hand into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, the sound of plastic crinkling as pulled out an item. A small smile on his face as he presented them to me.

“Peanut Butter Ritz?” I asked, eyeing the small pack of cracker sandwiches.

“Want to split them with me?” he asked, long fingers already tearing open the package. I nodded shyly, embarrassed that I’d been so nasty to him and he was still showing me kindness.

“So,” Harry continued once we’d finished our snacks, my stomach briefly satiated although I knew I’d need to find something again soon. “What song is being used for our grand entrance?”

I swallowed hard, nearly choking on the bubbly drink. Weakened with hunger, I had completely forgotten about the entrance each couple of the bridal party was expected to do. We were supposed to dance through or do something equally as embarrassing to a song of our choice. Back when it had been Adam and I, we’d chosen Shape of You by Ed Sheeran. I had no idea if that song was still being played, or if Thalia had changed it sometime between our breakup and now.

“It’s time to line up!” My Aunt Claire’s voice jarred me, and I quickly glanced at Harry. He grabbed the now empty champagne flute out of my hand and set it on the mantle nearby. We all were arranged according to the photographer’s satisfaction.

We were the fourth couple to take pictures, so we had a few spare minutes before having to put on a show for the camera and the rest of the bridal party. Harry was stiff beside me, still clearly as uncomfortable as I was, although for perhaps different reasons. I decided that I owed it to him to explain some of my [irrational] behavior.

“You may or may not have noticed, but I can be a bit headstrong.”

“‘Headstrong?’” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Is that how you describe stubborn, sulky, and overbearing?”

Ignoring him, I continued, “So when I found out that you were Adam’s replacement… I let my lingering upset feelings shadow rational thought. Internally, I think I blamed you for Adam’s absence even though you had nothing to do with it.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip, and I traced my finger around the outside of my glass.

“The two of you were together for a while then?” he asked quietly.

“Six years,” I told him. I paused, adding, “We were supposed to be getting married in June.”

I felt Harry’s gaze on my face, but I traced a line in the condensation on the outside of my glass. Finally, he spoke, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Six years is a long time.”

I looked up at him. Gone was the mischievous glint in his eye. Instead, there was understanding and sympathy. And, to my relief, no pity. That may have been why I continued.

“He was so successful. We met at university, but he studied business administration and I studied English. I knew that it would be hard post-grad, but a part of me was content keeping my entry-level position and supporting him while we raised a family. I was never hellbent on making a career for myself. I just wanted to be with him.” I took a sip of my water, swallowing before I continued. “But he was working his way up a large company that sells steel. He works with so many confident employees, many of them women. More than you’d expect.”

Harry’s eyes never left mine, even though I had to look away every few seconds because I felt like I might melt under the intensity of his gaze.

“He started having an affair. He had been distant, and one day he was in the shower when I heard his phone vibrate. I happened to glance over at the screen and saw a name. Bridgette. I didn’t recognize it, so I turned into a snoop. His passcode was still his birthday, and I read their text messages. It was pretty clear what was going on after that.”

“The worst part was that he blamed me. I didn’t challenge him, I wasn’t going anywhere in my career, I couldn’t keep up with him, and so on.” I swallowed. “And now I’m floating along aimlessly, my plans completely shattered, living in the middle of an existential crisis.”

Harry’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but I was staring at him closely enough that I caught it. I knew that sharing this was a horrible idea. I had no idea how I was supposed to make a good impression when I was unloading all of this on him.

My mind and mouth couldn’t seem to cooperate, however, because I ended up saying to him, “So now here I am, holding an entry-level position with only a bachelor’s degree in a field that requires at least a masters at twenty-five.” I swallowed, irrational thoughts of impending doom overtaking my mind. “I’m sorry. I think I’m having a quarter-life crisis.”

"Why does everyone call it a quarter-life crisis when they're 25?” Harry asked abruptly. “We're not all going to live to be 100, most people will probably only be like 87. So how about calling it a quarter-century crisis? That's so much more accurate!"

I blinked.

“I’m sorry,” I said blankly. “Was that supposed to be helpful?”

His mouth hung open as what he said finally sunk in. “I… was trying to say something to change the subject but I can see now that it did nothing to help your current situation. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” I continued, trying to move on. “Bottom line, I can be a bitch and I’m sorry. I knew that today wouldn’t be easy for me and I used you to channel some of my frustration and anger, which was very unfair.” Pausing, I looked up at him sincerely. “I hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Forgiven,” he said without missing a beat, extending his hand. “I’ll hope you’ll forgive me for sticking my foot in my mouth several times tonight and being an overall pest.”

“Forgiven,” I repeated, shaking his hand.

*~*~*~*~*~*

As it turns out, Harry wasn’t half bad when I wasn’t going out of my way to find him annoying. Thalia had changed our entrance song to The Macarena, so we already had a choreographed dance to invite the crowd to join in on as we made our way to the head table. While the rest of the guests were occupied watching Niall and Thalia dance their way to their seats, he had snuck off and gotten me a plate of cheese and veggies from some unknown source.

We did a few obligatory dances, which Harry was awful at, but I was laughing so hard throughout them that it was almost possible to forget how miserable I’d been earlier in the day. I could tell that Harry was trying his best to make the night as enjoyable as possible, and I wish that I’d been easier on him before so that we could’ve been having more fun together throughout the rehearsals and picture taking.

By the end of the night, I sat back down at my seat, slumped over the table, exhausted, my high heels kicked off beneath the table. Harry stole the seat beside me, placing a hand on the back of my chair.

“All right?” he asked me.

I nodded, eyes getting heavy. “I’m too tired to party any more. I’m ready to turn in.”

Harry stood, offering me his hand. “I can walk you up to your room.”

Conveniently, the reception was in the hotel where the bridal party rooms were booked. Harry helped me strap my shoes back on before leading me toward the lobby. The elevator ride to our floor was silent, and I took the time to really admire his appearance. His skin was glowing from the exertion on the dance floor and the stress of the day. His tuxedo fit him nicely, tailored to perfection.

I remembered the saying the best way to get over one man is to get under another. I wondered if that were true.

“Harry,” I said. He didn’t reply verbally but rose his eyebrows, silently encouraging me. “Do you want to come to my room?”

He straightened as he took in my words.

“Aren’t you really drunk right now?”

“No,” I answered honestly. “I feel almost completely sober at this point.”

“Then sure,” he said, shrugging, but I could see his hands shake slightly as he gestured for me to exit the elevator before him.

I grabbed my keycard from my clutch, opening the door and throwing it on the side table. I turned around to see him standing there by the door, hesitating.

“Come in,” I said, walking further into the room. “Just let me… freshen up a bit.”

I went into the bathroom, applied more deodorant and brushed my teeth. I grabbed a makeup wipe from beside the sink, wiping away the thick layers that had been applied over twelve hours earlier.

When I reentered the room, Harry was still standing up, reading a flyer left by the housekeeping staff about local sites to visit. I walked up to him, gently taking the paper from his hand and putting it back on the table. I ran my hands along the front of his shirt, underneath his tuxedo jacket, pushing it gently off his shoulders. He shrugged out of it before moving to unbutton his shirt.

So, this is how this sort of thing goes, I thought to myself. We just get right to it?

I bit my lip, shifting my weight on my feet. Harry caught the movement, looking up.

He paused, fingers on the buttons by his wrist. “We can stop right now if you want,” he said quietly. “I’ll find a pay-per-view movie and we can drink more champagne.”

Charmed by his sweet offer, I paused, shaking my head. “No, I want to do this,” I told him. “I’ve just never been with anyone other than Adam.”

He tilted his head to the side, eyes friendly but amused.

“Are you,” he breathed, “nervous?”

When I didn’t reply immediately, he continued.

“Prickly, outspoken, pigheaded Jasmine Moore is nervous?”

I forced my feet to stay rooted to the ground as he slowly moved toward me. He had resumed unbuttoning the buttons by his wrists and slowly shrugged off his shirt. My gaze ran over his tan, muscled arms. I traced tattoos with my eyes, caressed smooth skin with my gaze. Up his arms, across the bit of chest that was exposed above the collar of his undershirt, up that long neck, and into those green eyes, bright even in the low lighting.

His gaze was provocative, not only that of a sexual nature, but I was reminded that before getting swept up in the sight of him wearing almost no shirt, he had been egging me on. His eyes shined with mirth, waiting for a retort. If he was trying to get me angry again, it was working. And I was grateful for it. Anger and impatience gave me confidence. He was throwing me a bone.

“I’m not nervous,” I said, my voice gaining strength. To prove it to him, I reached up and began carefully removing the pins from my hair. He watched my fingers work, following the tendrils until my auburn hair was down and framing my face. Smirking at him, I turned away, pulling my hair over one shoulder and showing him my back.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. “Unzip my dress for me,” I instructed.

His approach was slow, deliberate. He gently took the small zipper between his fingers, dragging it down my spine until he reached the end, just above my ass.

Before he could do anything further, I turned to face him once again. I stood before him in a black bra and matching pair of Spanx. Not exactly ideal lingerie, but I hadn’t been expecting to take anyone back with me to my hotel room at the end of the night. And anyway, judging by the look on Harry’s face, he wasn’t disappointed.

“You’ve been wearing this all day, have you?” he asked, gesturing to the tight fabric around my stomach and hips. “Best to get it off then?”

To be honest, I had been counting down the moments until I could get this blasted thing off. But Harry was playing, and I wanted to play right back.

“Not so fast,” I told him. “Take off your undershirt and trousers. I want to look at you.”

Amused, Harry waited a moment before reaching behind his head and tugging the collar of his tank top over his head. I watched his abdominal muscles flex as he folded his shirt and carefully placed it on the dresser. Without pause, he then went to remove his watch, biceps flexing with his arms in front of him. Making eye contact with me again, he brought his hands down to his belt buckle, undoing it lazily before unzipping his trousers and letting them drop to the floor, kicking off his shoes and taking off his socks.

And there he stood, just in front of me, in nothing but his boxer briefs, begging to be touched. I walked over to him, placing my hands on his chest. He lowered his face until it was close to mine, our noses brushing. His hot breath on my lips. When I felt him leaning in for a kiss, I took a step back, teasing.

He looked exasperated before he realized what I was doing. I hooked my thumbs into the elastic band at the top of my Spanx, trying my best to shimmy out of the fabric in a sexy way and not an “oh my god get me the fuck out of this” way. Mentally, I was quite closer to the latter.

“Much better,” I couldn’t help but sigh out when the restrictive fabric was pooled at the ground by my feet.

“I have to agree,” he replied, stepping toward me.

Now that our physical barriers were slowly disappearing, my emotional barriers seemed to have become a fortress. Even now, I couldn’t believe I was about to have sex with someone other than Adam. Having had no one but him for six years – or, really, no one but him for all of my twenty-five years – I couldn’t help but feel like this was a betrayal. But then I remembered that he had done exactly this while we were will still dating. While we were engaged. Any ounce of betrayal I felt transformed into dizzying nausea at the thought of someone else seeing him like this – especially when I had been home waiting for him.

Harry’s hand gently reached out to cup my cheek. “You alright?” he asked, his thumb stroking my chin.

I held his wrist in my hand, nodding. “Kiss me.”

His eyes went back and forth between mine and my lips twice before they closed, and his mouth was touching mine. I tilted my head, pressing my lips gently back.

And with that, all thoughts of Adam were extinguished from my mind. The feel of his skin on mine held me prisoner, the taste of his mouth was consuming, and his hands wound in my hair eclipsed almost everything else as our kiss lengthened and our gasps of breath shortened.

He started leading me toward the bed, my feet stumbling in my heels as he gently pushed me backwards. I kicked them off my feet once I was horizontal, the sound of them hitting the floor distracting neither of us, too focused at the task at hand.

My legs bracketed his hips, pulling him closer. His lips trailed down to my abdomen, kissing the skin. I gasped when he went so far as to gently pull the skin just below my navel in between his teeth.

“I wanted you from the moment I first saw you,” he said, voice low and gravelly and deep in his throat. “And then you opened your mouth, venomous sneers on your tongue, and I wanted you even more.”

My heart, already racing, was given a kickstart as heat pulled between my legs.

“That doesn’t make much sense,” I replied, desperate for him to do something else with his mouth as his hands slowly traced the skin of my hips and waist.

“No, it doesn’t,” he agreed. He reached behind me to unhook my bra, tossing it onto the floor. He stared at my nipples, hard enough to cut glass. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”

He took my right breast into his mouth, warm and wet, his tongue deadly. I tangled my hands into his messy hair, stray curls falling in front of his forehead.

“Please,” I gasped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, mouth still at my breast.

“Please do something.”

“I am,” he grunted. “And I will not be rushed.”

All day, it had felt like I had been the one in control. He was walking around eggshells, working to please and impress me any way possible. Now, the dynamic had completely flipped. I felt like begging him to please just fuck me, dignity and pride aside. All it took were a few burning looks and searing kisses and I had transformed into complete putty in front of his eyes.

Mercifully, he stood up, fingers hooking in the sides of my underwear and slowly pulling them down my legs. In other circumstances, I may have been embarrassed at how ready he found me beneath the cotton, but I was drunk, had been stuck next to him nearly all day, staring at his beautiful body and handsome face, and it had been a while since I’d had the opportunity to be intimate with someone.

He looked up at my face briefly before settling on his knees before the bed and putting his mouth on my core. So this was what I had been missing out on for six years.

By the time he decided he was finished (and after I had nearly finished twice). He stood up, walking toward his discarded trousers on the floor. Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out a condom. I watched him, still naked and spread on the bed as he approached me once more and pulled down on his boxers.

I took him in, naked and hard before me. I made no effort to hide the effect seeing him in all his glory had on me. He was certainly gifted… in all aspects of his anatomy. Judging by the expression on his face, he was pleased with my reaction.

“How do you want it?” he asked me, staring at me lying before him.

I rolled onto my stomach, bending my knees and crossing my ankles behind me. “You choose,” I said coyly.

He chuckled, rounding the bed to the other side before surprising me and lying down on his back. He turned his head to look at me. Sensing my confusion, he said, “What are you waiting for?” He patted his bare thigh, just next to his cock. “Hop on.”

I bit my lip, intrigued. “Really?”

“If you want,” he replied easily. “But if you really were leaving it up to me to choose, this is how I’d do it. Definitely.”

I cocked my head to the side, pursing my lips and pretending to think about it.

“Fine,” I said, feigning resignation. I pushed up until I was on my knees, moving over to him. His hands came to my thighs as I moved to straddle him, steadying me as I adjusted. Reaching between us, I took him in my hand, stroking up and down his length a few times before guiding him to my entrance and slowly sinking down.

Harry’s hands tightened in reaction to the sensation and he let out a low groan. As I began to move on top of him, I grasped the back of his hands, moving them from my thighs to my breasts. He seemed quite pleased with their new position, even sitting up a bit to once again take one in his mouth. I continued to move my hips, tilting my head back as the pressure surmounted and the overwhelming sensation of being stimulated sent me over the edge. I rode it out as best as I could, but Harry gently flipped me back below him, taking over for me.

The effects of my orgasm left me feeling sensitive but having him inside me felt amazing and I never wanted it to stop. Eventually, however, he found his completion as well, his face buried in my neck and a low groan sounding in my ear. I ran my hands through his hair again, my fingers numb. After a few seconds of labored breathing, he rolled off me, disposing of the condom and settling on his back.

I felt his gaze on me and I eventually turned to look over at him.

“So?” he asked. “Was it a one-night-stand to remember?”

I laughed out loud, so hard that I even snorted. Harry started chuckling along with me.

Men, I thought to myself. Always so insecure in the bedroom.

“Yes,” I replied eventually, still giggling. “You did a fine job.”

He rolled his eyes, turning on his side after shutting off the lamp.

“Happy to be of service,” he said sardonically. “You didn’t do so bad yourself.”

It would certainly be a night I’d always remember, and not just because Thalia had gotten married. I’d allowed myself to loosen up a bit, and accepted the fact that life wasn’t always planned out. Sometimes it was better to live in the moment and make it count.

#1dff #exchanges

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hashtagartistlife · 6 years ago

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Thoughts TM on the Live Action (hard spoilers ahead. Also, warning: it’s long.):

- Firstly, the casting. The absolute Best casting decision in this whole movie, visuals-and-acting-wise, is Isshin hands down. He LOOKS like Isshin, he ACTS like Isshin-- actually, Movie!Isshin > Manga!Isshin. They toned down the goof a tiny bit, played up his love and concern for the kids, and put him in an APRON for 90% of his screentime and made him the homemaker. (A++++ MOVE, WHY THE HELL WAS YUZU COOKING FOR EVERYBODY AT THE AGE OF NINE. BAD DECISION KUBO).

- Second best casting decision is Kuchiki Rukia. I remember when her stills first came out I wasn’t 100% on this casting because sure she was gorgeous but she looked????? SO YOUNG????? but guys, she nailed it. NAILED IT. Hana Sugisaki based goddess and if u aren’t her fan now you will be by the time the movie ends.

- Sota Fukushi as Ichigo.... hm. Given that my only criteria when drawing Ichigo is to make him as hot as humanly possible, it was 100% guaranteed that any actor they put up for the role would fall short of my visual expectations from an Ichigo. NGL there are more good looking men out there than Sota Fukushi but to quote both Ro and I from our rabb.it chat during the movie...... sota fukushi hard smash

(- ok but a serious dilemma: are we attracted to him because he’s attractive, or because he’s playing ichigo and ichigo’s attractive????

-also, chad’s actor hard smash as well)

- SPEAKING of Chad.... he had. Minimal role in the movie but I love that they showed a bit of his bromance with Ichigo. It was always such a cute friendship and they did it justice with what little they showed! Anyway, I like his casting and Orihime’s too, visually speaking.

- The other casts were fine. Not !!!! worthy but like not terrible casting either. Honestly I feel like Miyavi as Byakuya could have really worked if they hadn’t given him that... AWFUL hair. The hair is even more awful in the movie than it is in the still cuts. Believe it.

- A final note on the casting... I really hated noticing this but Orihime’s actress? Erina Mano? Looks a LOT like the actress they cast for Masaki and i hate noticing it but I did. But it’s not time for the ir tea/ih salt yet that comes later

- Secondly: Characterisation. Overall decent, but you can really tell that like... they spent the most amount of care on getting the central IR dynamic right and sorta just went ‘lol that’s good enough’ for the others. It’s almost like they spent all of their characterisation budget on IR and had minimal left over to spare for minor characters (e.g: Orihime). You’ll see what I mean.

- Once again, hands down best characterisation in the whole movie is Isshin and Rukia. Isshin’s bodily comedy with Ichigo was done SO realistically, in a way that’s funny and not too over-the-top. The way they kept playing off each other as slightly overbearing father and moody teenage son was FANTASTIC. And one of the moments that had me MOST emotional in this movie was when Isshin was shown by Ichigo’s bedside, taking care of him while he’s recovering from injuries. Ichigo, upon waking from a dream of his mum, asks Isshin if he ever dreams of her. Isshin’s answer? ‘Every night’. EVERY NIGHT, MOTHERFUCKER. GOD I was never a hard isshimassa stan but this movie got me FEELING things for them

- Hana’s interpretation of Rukia is FANTASTIC. Unbelievably spot on. The emotional unavailability, her rigid initial adherence to what she believes is the shinigami code, the adorable naivete re: human world customs, the way she steamrollers over Ichigo, the way that, no matter how hard she tries to be aloof, she can’t hide the fact that she cares. She cares so much. And honestly, if there’s one thing this movie does well, it’s how they managed to get those manga-panel comic violence situations to translate so well to reality. Isshin-on-Ichigo violence translated well, and the Rukia-on-Ichigo violence translates excellently as well. Their little bickering scenes play out EXACTLY how I, at least, imagined them to go, and I couldn’t be happier about it. Also, I honestly think her looking really young works to her advantage, because it really gives you a sense of like… how bemused Ichigo must be by this whole situation. My predominant thought every time hana is on screen is SHE’S SO CUTE AND LOVELY I CAN’T DEAL WITH IT, except this tiny girl who you can only think of as ‘cute’ is like…. Bossing you around and beating your ass with a sword and instilling fucking philosophy lessons in you. It’s so surreal? And if it’s surreal for US then just imagine how surreal it must be for Ichigo.

- Sota’s Ichigo.... once again, hmm. His ‘trying to be cool’ acting (i.e. during the fight scenes) was cringey, but I can’t tell if that’s his acting skill or just the fact that what looks ‘cool’ on manga panels inVARIABLY look cringey in real life. Probably the latter. And I think he’s a LITTLE too growly for my taste, but then again, I’m used to post-timeskip Ichigo who’s a bit more... low-key cynical rather than prickly. Initial Ichigo was pretty abrasive, so I guess that’s in-character. Also, his most-said line of dialogue in this movie is ‘HAH??’ which is hilarious and very in-character. Honestly, Hana as Rukia is straight up excellent for the whole duration of the movie but I definitely think Sota shone MOST when he was acting in combination with Isshin or Rukia. Whatever I think about his individual acting skills, he definitely had chemistry with those actors in terms of dynamics.

- Guys, the IR in this is fantastic. Brilliant. Like I said, their bickering plays out to a TEE how I imagined things to go. Literally cannot fault their bickering. Their soft heartfelt moments are SO GOOD too. And they were all shot so…. Intimately? Their softer scenes were shot with such heartbreaking tenderness and I just….. ugh. Hana Sugisaki REALLY brought her acting A-game. ALSO THE WAY LITERALLY EVERYONE THINKS THEY’RE DATING??? RENJI SHOWS UP AND IS LIKE ‘OOPS I THINK I KILLED YOUR BOYFRIEND’ TO RUKIA. RENJI SAYS THAT. BYAKUYA THINKS SHE’S TOO ‘EMOTIONALLY INVOLVED’. Not to even mention Keigo and Tatsuki and Orihime……. God. Absolutely unbelievable.

- Now, if I was being picky and HAD to talk about a few gripes…. Let’s see. It takes Ichigo more time to warm up to Rukia than in canon, and he’s more of an asshole to her in this time period too. But y’know, that’s a very minor gripe. The other teeny tiny gripe I have about the IR is like…. A gripe but also not a gripe at the same time lmfao. OK so at the end when Renji and Byakuya are trying to take Rukia away, Ichigo plants himself in front of Rukia and says ‘I’m going to protect you’ and he repeats this multiple times in the fight, which, yes, extremely shippy, I’m going to die on the pavement et al, but also… this might be a weird gripe for some, because the ir dynamic has always been them protecting and saving each other. But not in so many words? It’s always been a very equal protection dynamic, partly because Rukia won’t LET him be her protector. I subscribe to the meta that this is precisely why she’s good for Ichigo. It’s also what drives him up the wall, because WHY WON’T SHE LET HIM KEEP HER SAFE, but it’s the fact that Rukia REFUSES to be one of his ‘protected people’, the fact that Rukia DEMANDS equal footing to him, that quashes down the more destructive aspects of his will to protect. But yeah, I feel like that line – ‘I’m going to protect you/her’, repeated multiple times—sort of erases the inherent equality in their dynamic and puts Rukia in the ‘protected’ pile. But that’s just because the movie didn’t have enough time for the rest of the arc. Look honestly the ir in the movie is FINE. The only reason I’m even bringing this up is because I have the manga version to compare it to, and it’s an unfair comparison to begin with because obviously the manga has so much more to work with. Overall, if you’re worried about the IR characterisation in this movie—don’t be. They hard carried the whole thing. Sota and Hana are an absolute DELIGHT to watch playing off each other. They have GREAT chemistry supported by well-shot scenes and good dialogue. 11/10 worth watching just for these two alone.

- Yuzu and Karin. Even though they changed their designs to look identical in the movie (I’m guessing for the instant visual cue of ‘oh they’re twins!’), I’m glad they kept their personalities the same. Karin is snarky as ever, Yuzu is sweet. So +1 for that. But then they made Yuzu (Karin?) say ‘Onii-chan, I’m scared’ during the fishbone D attack, rather than the canonical ‘get away, you’ll get hurt’. Which… look, fair, she’s eleven, I think that’s more realistic, but ALSO YOU JUST???? CHANGED HER WHOLE CHARACTERISATION. CAN WE PUT SOME RESPECT ON HER NAME PLEASE

- Uryuu……hmm. They made him a LITTLE more chill than he was in the manga, but he was such a dramatic character in canon already that he still comes off pretty darn dramatic in the movie. I did really like his characterisation, but he had such little screentime that I’m finding it difficult to like… do any substantial comparisons to his manga character. I’m thinking I might need a rewatch to solidify my opinions on Uryuu. But his little scene at the very end with Ichigo after they all lose their memories of Rukia is very sweet and makes me wonder about their dynamic if they hadn’t had all this quincy-shinigami bs to sort through.

- Chad was in the movie even less than Uryuu, but I have no complaints about his characterisation. Pretty accurate to manga canon.

- Guys I LOVE Keigo in this movie. ‘He died on the spot’ Iconic roast. LET KEIGO ROAST ICHIGO 2K18

- Tatsuki was eh. She wasn’t in the movie long enough for me to really have an opinion on her characterisation, and it’s unfortunate that the only part of her character they brought from manga canon was the ‘give Orihime bad advice on how to date Ichigo’ part, but whatever. It’s not technically WRONG characterisation, just not the FULL characterisation.

- Orihime…………… god, Orihime. Look you guys know that even though I have my ‘and NONE FOR ORIHIME BYE’ days, they’re mostly in jest, and I actually do appreciate her as a character. I like her, mostly! I think she’s fascinating to write about and explore! I think she deserved good things, better things than what the ending set her up for!

- But I’d strangle movie Orihime without hesitation. Bye bitch

- OK, you know how you thought anime Orihime with her constant ‘Kurosaki-kun’s was annoying??? Movie orihime was WORSE. Movie Orihime? Straight up yandere. She literally doesn’t have a single appearance where she’s not talking about Ichigo or being weirdly jealous of Ichigo and Rukia’s friendship or worrying about Ichigo in an overbearing, over-the-top way. And I’m actually really frustrated and disappointed about this, because early Karakura Orihime was ACTUALLY A GOOD CHARACTER!!!!!! Orihime, imo, is the most egregious OOC in this movie. Which is a shame, because the rest of the characterisation was actually… ok and decent

- Renji and Byakuya….. ohhhh boy. Renji and Byakuya are characterised as straight up villains for the whole movie with no redemption. There’s no nuance of them being possibly friendly and/or having concern for Rukia at all throughout the whole movie, which could be OOC depending on how you look at it, but honestly it makes sense considering this movie only covers up to chapter 56 Broken Coda and does NONE of the SS arc. Basically, their characterisations are how we would characterise them based on the one time they came to collect Rukia. They’re cold, uncaring, think humans aren’t worth anything, and that emotions are a human weakness. RENJI STRAIGHT UP SWINGS A SWORD AT AN UNARMED CIVILIAN CLOTHED RUKIA (yes I know it happened in the manga too but. It’s a lot more shocking watching it happen real-time) and also STABBED!!!! URYUU!!!!!! IN THE BACK!!! WHILE HE WASN’T DOING ANYTHING THREATENING!!! So, uh, this movie really said ‘fuck renji rights’. God I’m imagining like… if ur introduction to Bleach was through this movie, and you decided to look up how the manga ends and it’s RENRUKI and you’re like ?????????????? THE DUDE SWUNG A SWORD AT HER????? Like FORGET IH, this movie really fucking hated rr. Which… im not mad about lmfao

- Final note on characterisation: as usual, IR fucking hard carries, but what ELSE is new for this franchise. Isshin was a surprising dark horse. Overall, characterisation FINE, not OOC with one glaring exception, but sometimes because of time constraints certain characters didn’t get their FULL RANGE of characterisation.

- THIRDLY: overall technical excellence of the movie in terms of script, camera angles, choreography, CGI, etc etc

- My one line summary for this is…. It’s an anime live action adaptation. I hope ur not expecting much from this department at all

- Like, in terms of is it a GOOD movie? Lmfao. I enjoyed the hell out of it, sure, but I don’t think someone who has no idea what bleach is would a) understand what the heck is going on OR b) find the story to be well-paced and well-told. Like, I KNEW what was coming and what was going on, and even I found the movie to be a bit disjointed, kind of like old metal machinery that needs oiling to get going.

- Honestly this movie is similar to the manga in that… technically speaking it’s not great, but its strengths lie in the character arcs and the overall poetic parallels it tries to pull. It may not have been the most artistically executed, but I could tell that they really tried to put the parallel in between IR protecting each other and Masaki dying to protect Ichigo. Like, an attempt was noted! It was appreciated! Obviously they don’t do it with as much grace as the manga did but y’know, they tried!

- The script was actually really great in this movie. Bleach is a very snarky manga and the script really showcases that. Everyone shows a lot of sass. I like that. The one exception to the script being good was whenever a hollow opened its mouth to speak. They really gave the hollows dialogue like ‘I WANT YOUR SOUL’ and ‘GIVE ME YOUR SOUL’…. Like. Someone got paid for that dialogue and they really shouldn’t have.

- I honestly don’t have an opinion on the CGI. Ro kept saying that the cgi was BAD and like I guess it was, but I’m pretty lenient about CGI in general. I already know it’s going to be CGI so unless it’s BLATANTLY fake I overlook it.

- But there is this ONE SCENE of Renji going into shikai that looks so awfully fake that even I was like ‘ok no that was BAD’ so I guess CGI bad

- The choreo in the fight scenes is messy and disjointed and very cringey. I can’t believe they managed to pull manga-style comical violence in REAL LIFE and make it look believable and funny, but couldn’t choreography a decent fight scene……. Man idk. I guess they really DID spend all their budget on making IR as excellent as possible.

- Overall: technically speaking it’s a terrible movie, but will that hinder your enjoyment of it? Probably not. Watch it just for the excellent banter.

- FINALLY: Miscellaneous yelling about various scenes through 120% Ichiruki-filtered glasses.

- Guys, this movie. This movie. They really sat down and said ‘ok give them literally every single early-karakura ichiruki fanfic trope situation ever’ and that’s it, that’s the movie

- ICHIGO KEEPS LEANING DOWN RIGHT INTO RUKIA’S FACE!!!! THEY HAVE NOOOOO CONCEPT OF PERSONAL SPACE!!!! Which I guess is canon but THEY KEEP!!!!! LEANING!!!!! INTO EACH OTHER!!!! I will DIE

- The sPARRING????????? THE SPARRING?????

- Ichigo smirks while sparring her. She’s kicking his ass and goddammit, he LIKES it

- They legit made Rukia tackle Ichigo and pin him to the ground and then they made Ichigo flip them around

- And then they made ORIHIME WALK IN ON THAT

- UN!!!! BELIEVABLE!!!!!!!

- (Sidenote: they made Orihime act so weirdly jealous of that?? Like… wtf orihime. You’re not his girlfriend like she has no rights to be acting like this…. Look the Orihime characterisation in this movie is A Mess)

- They have conversations through shut closet doors while ichigo’s lying on his bed THIS APPEARS IN EVERY. SINGLE. IR EARLY KARAKURA FIC EVER IM

- Ichigo: CAN YOU GET OUT OF MY CLOSET. NO YOU CAN’T LIVE IN MY HOUSE

- Also Ichigo, the INSTANT he can’t find Rukia in his closet: WHERE IS SHE. LET ME JUST RUN AROUND IN THE DARK OUTSIDE TO FIND HER. HEY URYUU HOW DO I GET TO THE AFTERLIFE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAN’T BRING HER BACK. SO WHAT IF I DO, HUH? WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT. FIGHT ME

- Also ichigo becomes so much SOFTER towards Rukia after a certain point in this movie and…. God…… I love that you can see that switch in Sota’s acting. I’m going to CRY

- OK THIS IS A VERY SHORT SCENE BUT AT ONE POINT RUKIA LANDS ON A ROOFTOP WITH AN INJURED ICHIGO AND SHE LIT. RUBS HER HANDS ALL OVER THE BARE SKIN ON HIS CHEST BC SHE’S RUBBING MEDICINE INTO HIM!!!!!! WHAT THE FUCK!!!! WHERE’S THE M-15 RATING ON THIS MOVIE BC SHE LEGIT!!! HAD HER HANDS!!!! ALL OVER HIM!!!!! Ro and I shouted abt this so much God

- The final fight is RIDICULOUS in terms of HOW MUCH ICHIGO WON’T STAY DOWN and it’s framed SO dramatically lmfao but y’know, it’s shot in a very IR light, I’ll take it

- Ro and I literally were just like IT’S THE POWER OF LOVE BITCH bc he legit just KEPT getting up it was ridiculous

- Also rukia’s final speech to ichigo after she does her whole broken coda ‘don’t touch my brother lowly human’ spiel is…. Beautiful. Fucking excellent

- ‘you’re rude and brash and I’m sick of all humans especially you’ but like. Why is this literally kate’s ’10 things I hate about you’ speech at the end of that movie

- ICHIGO DOESN’T TAKE HIS EYES OFF RUKIA THE WHOLE TIME SHE’S ERASING HIS MEMORIES. DOESN’T EVEN BLINK. THIS IS SOME EP 342 TEAS ALL OVER AGAIN. FUCK. I’M GOING TO!!!! DIE!!!

- Ok so my opinion on how they changed the end: it was necessary to tie things all up in one movie but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate the fact that ichigo ostensibly forgot rukia when in canon HE’S THE ONLY ONE THAT REMEMBERED

- I guess the final scene where he looks at her writing on his textbook and smiles could be a sort of clue that he’s starting to remember. Man idk I think I’d just feel really cheated as a viewer who isn’t coming from a bleach manga/anime background, that everyone just conveniently ‘forgot’. It’s equivalent to an ‘it was all a dream!’ kind of ending imo. It’s a copout. But at the same time I can see why it was necessary :’/

- Also, this exchange with uryuu at the end where they exchange hellos before pulling up short and going ‘wait- do I know you?’ ‘no. but good to know you’ was SO HEARTBREAKING BUT SO GOOD I REALLY DID LOVE THAT

- Whoo ok I’m SURE I’ve forgotten some details but this is already EXCESSIVELY long so. Final FINAL thoughts:

- The quality of the movie is, obviously, not great, but if you were worried about weird chara interpretations and relationships, don’t be. Unless you’re an IH/RRstan or an Orihime fan. This will not be a fun movie for you. But then again, you managed to work through 686 chapters of a manga that clearly wasn’t fun for you and seemed to be ok with it, so maybe this movie won’t bother you either.

- The script is surprisingly solid and has genuinely good, occasionally touching, snarky, sassy dialogue. Good attempts at poeticism and various parallels and callbacks.

- Ichiruki fucking hard carries, and so does isshin. I love uryuu but that may just be my uryuu bias talking.

- Objectively, maybe a 4, 5/10. Ichiruki-wise? 8/10. Obviously this was written in a high straight after the movie and like, maybe after a few days or like a rewatch or w/e my opinions may change. But rn? God I love stanning legends, viva la ichiruki fuck you

#bleach #bleach live action #ichiruki #fangirl life #incredible.... guys who wants to watch the movie again w me bc honestly im up for a massive rewatch #bleach liveblogging

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veryniceaus · 7 years ago

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mmmm high school au!woozi ??

omg i am so sorry how late this is but i hope you forgive me

How do I say this: you and Jihoon did not get along - at all. He was quick to anger and so were you, plus you two were always arguing over who was right and wrong almost all the time. Unfortunately, you two shared almost every class together, which made it that much harder to avoid him. At least you two sat on opposite sides of the room.

Which is why you’re suprised one day when the art teacher announces that she’ll be assigning partners instead of letting the students choose, and to you and Jihoon’s luck, you two have been paired together.

Begrudgingly, you went to sit by Jihoon, dragging your feet the entire time. He just looked at you as you sat in front of him. “Why did we have to be paired together?” You muttered.

“I’m not happy about this either, and you better not slack on purpose. I don’t want my grade to go down because of your idiocy.”

You glared at him. “I’m not going to! You better not either.” Then you blinked. “What’s the assignment anyway? I wasn’t listening.”

He sighed heavily. “Of course you weren’t. We have to draw a portrait of each other.”

You watched as he opened his sketch pad, putting his pencil to paper. “You’d better not make me ugly on purpose.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be sure to capture your average looks in this drawing,” he said, to which you rolled your eyes at.

After class, you and Jihoon decided to meet in the art room on the days when the art club wasn’t meeting to work on the project after school. Today happened to be one of those days, so once the school day was over, you headed to the art room.

Jihoon was already there, sitting in the same spot as earlier. You walked over to him and sat in the stool across from him. “You go ahead and draw me first,” he told you.

“Sure.” Taking out your sketch pad and pencil, you looked up to find him staring at you. “Um, what?”

“What do you mean, ‘what’? I’m supposed to stay still for you to draw me.”

You rolled your eyes. “I know that! I just want to know why you’re just weirdly staring at me.”

“Well what else am I supposed to do?” he asked.

“I don’t know, like do your homework or something. Do you want your portrait to be just you staring straight ahead with those soulless eyes of yours?”

He glared at you, but pulled out a notebook from his backpack anyway. “Fine, suit yourself. Just don’t mess up.”

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Now, the room fell silent, the only sounds being your pencil sliding across the paper and Jihoon’s pen scribbling over his. You studied Jihoon; he wasn’t bad-looking. In fact, he was pretty handsome, and you felt that he would be popular if he wasn’t so prickly all the time. You took in how the warm sunlight fell on his face, making his skin glow and how smooth his hands looked as he wrote, but they were also attractive with how defined his knuckles were.

You didn’t realize how obsorbed you were with staring at him that when his eyes suddenly flickered up to meet yours, your heart skipped. “W-What?” you stuttered.

“Your hand stopped moving.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Is something the matter? Your face is red.”

“I’m fine!” You exclaimed before looking back down at your sketch pad. His portrait was turning out nicely, the only thing left was to make it more detailed and defined.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, it is getting kind of late. Let’s end it here.”

You watched as he packed up his bag and walked out the door, giving a small goodbye wave to you on the way out.

Ever since that day, you noticed every thing you never did before about Jihoon. How handsome he is, how nice his voice sounded, how nice he smelled whenever he would lean in a bit while you two talked.

And most of all, how everything about him made your heart race.

As you sat in the art room, waiting for Jihoon, who was having a meeting with the history teacher, you thought about your feelings. How did this happen? Why are you feeling all nervous around him when just a couple weeks before, you couldn’t stand him? The worst thing of all is that you don’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t seem to feel any differently, since he always treats you the same as before, although his snarky remarks towards you have decreased. Maybe you were just over-thinking things, maybe these feelings will go away once this project ends!

“Spacing out again?” Jihoon’s voice asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said as he opened his sktech book. “Go ahead and do your thing while I finish up my drawing.”

You two had decided not to show each other the portraits until both were finished. Your portrait of Jihoon was done, and you were worried about what he might think about it. In your drawing, it was him writing in his notebook. You ended up asking him what he was writing one day, finding out that he wrote lyrics.

“Could I read it?” you had asked him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Why? So you could make fun of it?”

“Of course not! I’m just curious. Please, can I read it?”

He sighed as he handed it over to you. The first thing you noticed was his neat handwriting, but what stood out to you was how well-written the lyrics were. They were lyrics that made you feel a little sad, but as you kept reading, you got the message of the song: things may be hard now, but if you keep pushing foward, you’ll eventually get to a place where everything is alright.

“You’ve been quiet for a while,” he said, breaking the silence in the room. “What do you think?”

You looked up at him and smiled. “I really like it. You’re really good! I never knew. Can I read more another day?”

His eyes widened a bit before he looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “Sure, I’ll bring some of my other works with me next time.” You could have sworn you saw a bit of pink dust his cheeks, but you brushed it off. There’s no way Jihoon would be blushing, right?

Now, Jihoon announced that he’s finished with his drawing. “So, let me see how you did with the drawing of me,” he said.

You pulled out your sketch pad and opened it up to the drawing. “Listen, before I show you, I want you to promise you won’t laugh or get angry.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t tell me you really did mess around with this assignment?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “Gah, never mind! Here!”

You thrust the sketch pad at him and he took it, handing you his own with his other hand. Nervously, you grabbed his sketch pad before slowly looking down at the portrait he had drawn of you.

It was beautiful.

You didn’t even recognize yourself at first; you thought he had handed you a drawing of a competely different person. But, sure enough, it was you. You were staring out the window, your chin resting in the palm of your hand. Jihoon was able to capture even the smallest details of your face. Your eyes sparkled from the sunlight, your expression peaceful.

Looking up, you were about to say something to him, only to stop when you saw the look on his face. He stared down your drawing of him, his expression unreadable. Scared, you hesitantly called his name. “J-Jihoon?” you said.

He seemed to snap out of his thoughts. “What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Just… what do you think?”

Instead of answering you, he abruptly stood up from his seat, the stool’s legs scratching against the floor. Pushing your sketch pad back to you, he grabbed his off the table and shoved it into his bag. “I have to go now. See you.”

“Wait!” you called after him. However, he didn’t turn around and disappeared out the door.

Without thinking, you quickly stood up and chased after him. He hadn’t gotten far, so you quickly caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “I said, wait!” you shouted. “What’s your problem? Why did you just leave?” He kept his head turned away from you, only angering you further. “Listen, if you didn’t like my drawing, you could of at least said it instead of just walking out of the room like that.”

“I didn’t not like it,” he finally said. He turned to face you, and your were surprised to see the soft expression on his face. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know how to react, so I left.”

“What do you mean, ‘surprised’?” you asked. “At how bad it was? I mean, I know I’m not the best artist but-”

“It wasn’t bad,” he cut you off. “It was far from bad. You did a really good job. I was shocked at how good it was.”

“So then why did you just randomly walk off after seeing it?”

“Because… I didn’t want you to see my reaction,” he mumbled. Confused at first, you peered closely at his face. That’s when you noticed the slight blush on his cheeks and how shy his expression is.

In response, your own face turned red. “Oh.”

“Oh?” His eyes narrowed. “I said all that embarrassing stuff and that’s all you have to say?”

“Well, honestly, I don’t know what to say.” You laughed. “I’m just glad you liked it. I was so scared you wouldn’t.”

“Why?” he asked. “I would have liked anything you came up with.”

You heart sped up. “What do you mean?”

He stared at you. “Seriously? Is it not obvious by now?” He sighed when you shook your head. “I like you.”

Now, your heart was beating hard that you were sure he could hear it, and just like that first moment that day, you noticed how beautiful he is. The sun shone through the window again on him, making him seem like some otherworldly creature.

Stepping closer to you, he asked, “Did you like the drawing I made of you?”

“Y-Yes,” you said.

“To be honest, I wasn’t planning on giving it to you. I was going to give you another one that wasn’t as good as that one.”

“Why?”

His cheeks turned red. “It’s embarrassing! My feelings for you became so obvious with how good it came out. I was nervous that you’d figure it out.” He sighed before looking into your eyes. “Well, I suppose it’s too late now.”

You stared at him. “Do you really like me?”

Instead of answering with words, he leaned into you, softly pressing his lips to yours. “From the moment I saw you,” he said seriously. “I just didn’t know how to act around you, but I guess you took that as me not liking you.”

“Sorry,” you said. “But I really thought you hated me!”

He laughed. “Well, you know now.” He stepped away from you, holding out his hand. “Let’s go.”

Smiling, you put your hand in his, and he squeezed your hand slightly as you two made your way home.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #woozi #jihoon #seventeen imagines #fanfic #au #seventeen au #high school au #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines

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words-are-like-colors · 7 years ago

Link

Title: “Reward?”

Rating: Teen Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Fandom: Diamond No Ace Relationships: Miyuki Kazuya / Sawamura Eijun Characters: Miyuki, Sawamura Additional Tags: Summary: Ah, so, I created this mini fic for FYDNA exchange and I hope you all enjoy. One night, Eijun was feeling a little lonely and peeved at how much time the dating Haruichi and Furuya are getting so he decides to visit Miyuki’s room for the night. Don’t worry, this is all innocent. Notes: This work was written for Rabbitposteriors and I hope you will be pleased. Thank you and please comment!!!!!!!

Word Count: 1758

Eijun couldn’t sleep. This isn’t a shock, he usually only falls asleep just before it was time to get up— only to walk onto the field for early morning practice completely exhausted. Between nightmares and excited thoughts, it’s hard for him to even get the smallest blink of sleep.

The snoring from Mochi seemed louder for some reason and Eijun felt prickly all over, making him toss and turn. His mind felt clogged, suffocated almost. After mutedly fighting with the blankets, he laid there staring at the underside of the bunk trying to work through his thoughts and find out just what was blocking them. Nothing much had happened that day: usual school, usual practice, usual annoying Miyuki, usual… oh.

Eijun smacked his forehead when the event hit him. Haruichi and Furuya were lightly making out behind the dugout after practice. This really shouldn’t be a surprise, they have been going out for a couple months now, but being that the shyest couple in the field was going at it was a bit peeving… especially when neither him nor Miyuki have been able to have a moment alone together, let alone have a makeout session.

Knowing Miyuki, he would probably still be up rewatching game recordings till the AM but at the risk of waking Mochi when he sneaks out of the room? That would deliver a punishment only suited for the strongest alive. Eijun grounded his palms into his eyes before rolling over onto his stomach and grabbing his phone.

After taking a moment to find his boyfriend’s contact, he quickly typed:

/Me: are you still awake?/

The phone made a small noise as it fell onto the mattress, Eijun dropping it since he doesn’t expect an answer at all. He began to wonder if Haruichi was awake and able to talk when the screen lit up.

/Shitty-Senpai: what do you think?/

/Me: okay okay, no need to be so snarky. ((；ﾟДﾟ) I was wondering something…./

/Shitty-Senpai: What./

Eijun typed and retyped his text, careful to say something that wouldn’t make Miyuki say no, before sending as he bit his lip:

/Me: can I come over to your room? I can’t sleep (:3ぅ　) and just want to see you. I won’t be too long./

There was a long pause, seemingly like Miyuki was thinking of what to say and how to get out of this situation when there was a practical sigh and response.

/Shitty-Senpai: fine. But if Kuramochi catches you, I’m not saving you./

The giggle of glee that threatened to spill out was covered by a hurried hand while the other sent a thank you text full of excited emoticons. Blankets were kicked back then balled up along with his pillow as he got up from the bed. He shot a daring, cautious look up at Mochi’s bunk before stalking to the door. The door creaked but was overall quite as Eijun opened it and shut it before he took off down the walk way.

He slowed once he reached the bottom of the staircase. It wasn’t too bad out, the fall chill was cold, yes, but Eijun’s excitement was keeping him warm— he had left the room in only a tang top and boxers, not bothering to change into anything since that might’ve woken the beast. Winter was approaching and with that, winter camp and the joining of new first years (Eijun is very exciting for the moment he could be called “senpai” and rub it in Miyuki’s face) all of which were something he was looking forward to but the only downside is that he will have less time with Miyuki and the idea that Miyuki might have a roommate…. less time for them to be alone together. Eijun loves baseball, don’t get him wrong, but at times, he just wants to forget it and drag Miyuki down to drown him in kisses, no matter what kind of annoyance he is.

When he stopped in front of the room, it suddenly felt very daunting. What if Miyuki asks why he came over? What would he say? There’s no way he is allowed to admit that he just really wants to makeout with him and be around him without getting some critical feedback that would either a) make Eijun so upset that he would just leave, b) regret wholeheartedly coming over, or c) they fight… which is a option that wasn’t too far away for them, especially being that Miyuki is rude and annoying and needs to—

Eijun clenched his fists to make him stop overthinking of ridiculous things as he rapped on the door. The response was almost instant as the door was pulled open to reveal a tired looking Miyuki. “What.” He said in a dull tone, probably the same tone that he was using while texting. But Eijun ignored this as he pushed himself inside the room and tossed his bedding down.

The door clicked as it was shut and Miyuki turned around with his hands on his hips. He was still wearing jeans and the shirt from earlier that afternoon and from the look of books thrown across his desk, Eijun assumed that he was still up doing homework, which was confirmed when Miyuki grumbled, “I have English homework to do, so, I need some quiet.” He went to go sit back down when he saw the look on Eijun’s face. “… Is there something you need?”

“I want to do things.” He blurted out, already walking towards him. “I want to kiss you and stuff.”

“Okay…”

“Like, I haven’t been able to touch you or anything for days and it’s tiring.”

Miyuki sat down in the chair and relaxed into it. He patted his lap. “Why don’t you sit here then?”

Although this kind of request is probably going to end in teasing or something evil, Eijun didn’t care as he plopped down with his back flush to Miyuki’s chest. He was warm and Eijun instantly felt comfortable, feeling more at ease with every passing second, not even minding that Miyuki whispered in his ear stating he was being overly eager. An arm was snaked around his waist to hold him close as he scooted up to the desk. “Sawamura~”

“Yes?” His insides began to twist at low sound of Miyuki talking into his ear.

“How long have you been wanting to ‘do things’ with me? What do you mean by that?”

Now that, that sounded like a genuine question. “A while I guess. I mean—“ Eijun’s cheeks suddenly flared red. “I DIDN’T MEAN IT THAT WAY.”

“Shhh.”

“Oh, well…” He shifted in his lap more, hands going down to hold onto the arm. “N-not that stuff but innocent stuff. More like, just kissing.”

“That’s not so innocent, Sawamura.”

He huffed, “I don’t mean naughty things. I just want to kiss you and hug you and…” he trailed off, not really wanting to say it out loud and be laughed at.

“And what?”

“You’ll just laugh…”

There was a sigh, “I won’t, promise. Want do you want to do with me?”

The redness in Eijun’s cheeks that had started to ebb away suddenly sprang back up. “I… I want to cuddle you… badly.”

Eijun nearly jumped when he felt Miyuki’s head drop down onto his shoulder. “Is that all, Sawamura? You just want to cuddle with me?” For once, he wished he had eyes on the back of his head to see if Miyuki was smiling or not.

“Yeah. I really want that right now.” An relaxed smiled fluttered up to his lips, happy that Miyuki wasn’t getting upset and that he was getting the affection he had been so desperately wanting.

There was a low hum and a small drag of his lips by his ear. “Alright. Why don’t you stay on my lap and I can reward you later.”

“Reward?”

“Yeah, you don’t know what a reward is, Sawamura?” He asked slickly, which prompted Eijun to unconsciously grip the arm tighter. “I’ll give you a treat if you sit here and be patient~”

Knowing of his teases, he probably meant a tiny candy he had stuck in the bottom of his bag instead of something more satisfying, but Eijun couldn’t help but get excited. “Can you tell me what it is?”

“Nope!” He popped the ‘p’ but went ahead on his work before Eijun could protest.

***

Waiting for Miyuki to be done with his work was antagonizing, especially with his patience was being tested with the thought of a treat. Whenever Miyuki was hesitant on a problem, Eijun was able to figure it out, or at least point into the right direction, which was quickly followed by soft kisses on his neck and shoulders in thanks which is what Eijun would like to think of as praise.

After the final problem was finished and set away with Miyuki grumbling about how his legs had fallen asleep, Eijun started to bounce slightly on his lap. “Miyuki! I’ve been patient, can I have my reward now?”

“That doesn’t sound like a patient person would say.” Miyuki lightly teased but patted Eijun’s side anyways. “Up, I need to change quickly before getting in bed.”

Although reluctantly, Eijun scrambled up off of his lap and onto the bed, obediently facing the wall before Miyuki could even prompt him to. They had both clarified that nothing naughty was going to be done and anyways, it’s not like they could.

But to say the truth, Eijun truly wanted to turn around and to ogle at his boyfriend. The teasings wouldn’t matter.

Just as he was in the middle of internally debating if he really should or not, he felt a hand drop on his shoulder. “Sawamura, is that wall very interesting? Is it your new boyfriend?”

Eijun squawked and pushed his hand off before indignantly looking up at him. “You are so weird Miyuki! Why would even suggest that?”

“Well, you are just staring at it so hard but whatever, I wouldn’t be jealous.” The bed dipped as Miyuki laid down next to Eijun, a proud smirk on his now-glassesless face.

“I bet you would be.” Eijun grumbled, scooting over so he could lay against his side. His arms instantly wrapped around his waist and his face buried into his shoulder.

There was just a tired sigh and implied roll of the eyes. “Yeah… I guess I would be.”

(The cuddling was the treat but Miyuki never stated that and just flicked Eijun‘s forehead when he asked.)

#Fydaiyasecretsanta #diamond no ace #Miyusawa #fanfic: mine #Secret Santa

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long-way-down-rp-archive · 8 years ago

Photo

Winnifred “Fred” Torres

True Name: No Face Claim: Michelle Rodriguez Nickname and Aliases: “Fred.” “Winner” to her adoptive father, Luis Torres. Date of Birth: Unknown. She celebrates April 10th, 1990 the day Luis Torres found an infant on his ailing mentor’s doorstep, as her birthday. Apparent Age: 20’s Actual Age: Unknown. Likely 27-29. Gender: Cis Female. Kind: Shifter - Born Wolf Occupation: Courier Distinguishing Marks: Tattoos: A geometric black band around her right bicep. A Catholic cross on the nape of her neck (a gift from Luis, to protect her in her travels). Appendectomy scar. In wolf form: grey and white markings, dark rings around her eyes.

Personality: She’s solitary and very intensely private and guarded and trusts neither easily nor quickly. She can be prickly and snarky – but her sly sense of humor can also be surprisingly gentle. She’s kind but cynical. Around those she truly loves and trusts, she’s all clumsy affection and goofiness. She doesn’t get truly angry easily, but when she does it’s an ice cold and dangerous anger. She has a history of depression but she’s on an anti-depressant that works well for her – still prone to melancholy, though only those very close to her see it.

History:

Fred doesn’t think much about her past. Or the future. She lets the wind whistle past her and turns her music up and floats and for whole sections of highway she lives only in that precise moment in time. That’s what she likes about the Red Nights, about the vagabond life.

It’s not that her past is unhappy. She’d deck anybody who either tried to psychoanalyze her – she’s not against therapy, she’s done some herself, would recommend it to lots of folks, she’s just against smug bastards who think pontificating a few clichés and poking at someone’s sore spots without their consent means they know shit – or tried to suggest that Luis didn’t do a damn good job raising her. And he did, he really did. She didn’t have an auspicious start on life that’s for sure. Whatever happened, it must have been bad, for a cub – less than a year old, Luis’d always estimated – to end up lost and alone, no pack, no home, until she ended up on Luis’ mentor’s doorstep. But from the moment Luis picked her up she’s been warm and safe and loved.

If she were different kind of person she might get maudlin about those early years. Running just a little bit wild all over the property that’d become Luis’, watching him work, helpin’ and learning beside him. Luis’d had a whole slew of little brothers and sisters, had all the practice he needed and the patient, indulgent but reliable, fair-minded and gentle temperament to be a damn near perfect father. A terrible cook, and it’s a wonder Fred never got scurvy living off so much canned baked beans but hey, nobody’s perfect and Fred’s not in a position to diss anybody else’s cooking. Besides, she still likes canned baked beans.

Still, it’s just the two of them, really. And that’s not a proper pack. Oh, there’s Luis’ mentor, and Fred’s got only fond memories of the old man, but she’s also only got one or two memories of him ‘cause he died not all that long after she arrived. There’s the rest of the Nashville pack, sure, but they’re spread out. One of her only memories of Luis’ mentor is of him telling her stories of how it used to be – before his time even – of how many of them there were, how close they all were. But now, after the Cull, everyone lives far apart and though there’s the canine kinship between them all when they get together at The Back Forty or pass on the street, it’s fleeting.

There’s Luis’ big, warm, generous family. Now that’s a pack, alright. Abuelo and Abeula and so many Tias and Tios and primos for her. But they all live in Texas. And they don’t know why their son has settled so far away. And when Luis takes her to visit them for Easter and Christmas they welcome her like family – but, there’s still the edge of having to be careful around them, the weight of the secret between them.

And there’s the Red Nights. For as long as she can remember, those beautiful bikes and a handful of familiar faces have been riding in and out of her life. They were always family too, Luis’ brethren – even the ones that hardly spoke, or the ones that she didn’t speak the same language as -- but they were family that never stayed. Didn’t mean they weren’t family, but still.

For a long while though, Luis and her, that was enough. But then there was school. Nothing like being forced into close proximity with so many people you had nothing in common with to make you feel lonely. And it wasn’t just the wolf that felt the isolation and alienation. She was a weirdo, right enough. Her shyness was mistaken for stuckupitness. Her strange sly sense of humour for rudeness. Her clumsy affection was too transparent, too lacking in cool. At first she at least could run wild on the playground with the boys, shouting and jumping and playing basketball and feeling the thrill of being in her body bouncing off the energy of others solidly in their bodies. But then puberty hit, and hit a bit early, and suddenly there were lines that she hadn’t realized existed. She couldn’t be one of the boys anymore, but the girls didn’t exactly want her either. And she was definitely too short for basketball. Human or wolf, she just didn’t quite fit in. “Just haven’t found your pack, yet,” Luis’d say, “that’s all.” “It’ll happen. Just be patient.” And she’d tried to be.

She’d escaped into books, found kindred spirits between the pages and an even more powerful yearning for that kind of connection in the real world. Fantasy and science fiction were her favourites at first but then Luis gave her poetry. Gloria E. Anzaldua and Cherrie Moraga. Older women, with powerful voices that filled her up and kept her going.

She was smart, and lucky enough to have teachers who recognized it and encouraged her. Luis was so proud that she’d be the first of his family to pursue higher education. And for half a moment there, in the sunshine and sparkle of Stanford University, she’d thought all her lonely teenage dreams had come true, that she’d found her pack. Everyone was so verbally whip-smart, so willing to tangle words and ideas with her. And she fell in love. She’d never let herself even have half a decent crush all through high school, too keenly aware that these weren’t the right people for her, but here she let herself hope otherwise and she let herself be vulnerable. She let herself realize what she suddenly knew Luis must have realized a long time earlier – all those sapphic lady poets? No, not a coincidence – and in that bliss of letting herself be this new word, “bisexual,” she fell hard and fast for the girl who taught it to her.

And for a while it was heaven. But it was a heaven at least half manufactured, all Fred’s hopes and dreams projected onto people she didn’t really know. As the second year started, Fred started to come out of the haze of new infatuation, started to feel uncertainty creeping in. Started to realize that here too there were things she couldn’t talk about, things she couldn’t be – it’s just that they were different ones than the ones back in high school. She could be intellectual here, she could be queer, she could be witty and sparkling, but… somehow she never talked about being here on a full scholarship, didn’t let her friends or even her lover see her budgeting everything, never spoke Spanish. Things she couldn’t precisely put her finger on. And of course, she kept the wolf leashed and muzzled and hidden. Still, when Emma, beautiful elegant Emma, got down on one knee… Fred said “yes” and she meant it, but she knew she had to tell Emma who and what she really was. And first, she took her home. And in the warm messy kitchen of her childhood home, the fantasy well and truly dissolved.

It wasn’t that Emma did anything wrong, but in a flash Fred saw Emma seeing her home, seeing her father, and saw the flicker of white, upper-middle-class judgements on her face. Fred tried to tell herself that it was her own fears talking, that she was projecting, but then when Luis went to get them coffee, bustling about so proud and happy for his daughter, Emma whispered, “Your dad’s kinda scary, huh?” and Fred knew. That she’d made a mistake bringing her here. But also, that she could have made worse mistakes.

It was supposed to be a short visit, but when Emma went to join her family in Cape Cod, Fred stayed. And stayed. Emma stopped calling and messaging, eventually. Luis didn’t push her, didn’t ask questions she didn’t want to answer, not until September came and went and the school started calling. Then he sat her down and told her that whatever she needed to do, he’d support her. Asked her what she wanted. Laid out options, carefully, keeping his voice neutral so she’d know he wasn’t going to pressure her one way or the other. She could transfer. She could take a break. She could quit altogether. She could work with him, he’d always be glad of his right hand girl. Fred couldn’t give him an answer, not then. And not for a while after, but Luis was patient. Eventually, when Fred was still sleeping most of the days away and starting to lose weight, he saw that she needed more than patience. Got her some good help.

By spring-time Fred still had a sadness clinging to her but she was reading and eating again, she was getting her balance back. Taking a lot of long midnight rides, helping out in the garage, hanging out at The Back Forty. When the Red Nights rolled in, it was only natural that she’d roll out with them. And it’s been good for her. As good a path as any for somebody who’s never quite belonged in any one place. Maybe she’ll never find the understanding, the kind of pack, she craves. Maybe nobody but Luis will ever know her and see her, all the mixed up jumbled pieces of her. But with the Red Nights, with her brethren of the road, she’s found acceptance.

On the road Fred’s free to be whoever she wants to be that particular day and unconstrained by the expectations and lenses through which others view her. They’re all misfits too and they don’t judge and maybe they don’t fully see her, but they don’t try to change her to fit what partial image of her they do see. They don’t understand her, but they understand what it is to not be understood. And they let her be. And that acceptance is as close to a pack as she thinks she’ll ever find. It’s good enough. Except for when it ain’t. But then she goes home to Luis or she reads poetry that sings in her soul and has a cry, or sheds her human skin and goes running flat out under the moon until it all fades away and she wakes up clean and strong.

Family:

Luis Torres, adoptive father, 67. Sexuality and Relationship Status: Bisexual. Currently determinedly single/casual relationships only. Other Ties: The Red Nights MC. The folks of The Back Forty.

Likes: Kids, even and maybe especially difficult ones, and animals – oh she’s got Luis’ soft spot for strays, alright. The quiet and solitude of the woods. Contrarily, also the noise and easy comradery of dive bars and truck stop diners. Poetry and literature .Her one true love, Lilah, her 1997 Harley Davidson Electraglide Classic, a gift from Luis and the Red Nights before she left for university. Dislikes: The stifling strictures of suburban America and the people of her home town who all believe they know her. Snobbery. Greed. Incompetence. Hobbies: None, really. Unless the spinning of elaborate lies to the folks she meets on the road; a harmless game she plays -- mostly with herself, though she’ll laugh over the most outrageous ones with her brethren of the road or with Luis -- counts. Skills: Mechanics. Martial arts. Medical Conditions: Depression. Lactose intolerance. Current Financial Status: Far more secure than a casual observer might think. She’s thrifty and has few possessions, but she’s got a significant chunk saved in the bank. Her two years in university was entirely paid for by scholarships and she makes a good, if unreliable, income, running for the Red Nights. Places: Torres’ Garage. The Back Forty. Cheatham WMA. Pets: None.

Known Magic: Shifting. Magical Items: Fred might try to claim that Lilah has her own magic, but it’s not that kind of magic.

Rumors: Fred keeps a low profile, but in certain circles she’d be known as a fast and discrete courier for – whatever you might want moved. Anyone who’s dealt with her will tell you she’s decidedly not somebody to mess with and some will remark that she’s got a strange sense of humour.

Writing Sample:

It’s not like she’s actually moving back home. Sure, maybe this time she’s staying a little longer. Long enough to bring Lilah in out of the rain and park her in an unused corner of the garage. Fred tries not to think about the fact that this corner is clear and unused, when everywhere else the clutter and chaos blooms – tries not to ask herself if it was clear here last time she came ‘round or if Luis’ cleared it out for her. If he’s asking her to stay, with that silent clear space just big enough for her bike.

She’s just hanging about a little longer, that’s all, having a longer visit. She could use a vacation. Some time with the old man. That’s what Fred tells herself, but she still feels the old highschool fear of being stuck here clamp in her gut. There’s another stronger fear though, that took up residence there when she felt Luis’ hands trembling in hers, and it’s forcing the old fear out of house and home. “It’s nothing,” he’d said, but he’d smiled so kindly at her, that she’d known it for a lie, immediately. Funny, she’d always remembered him being a scarily good liar. But she’d just nodded, “Okay, Luis,” and let it drop. Or seemed to anyway. That night she’d gotten up and prowled around. Not like she didn’t do that often enough do that. It always seemed to her to be one of the things that was most often different between the bitten and the born. She never could sleep through the night, nights were full of something raw and invigorating. While Luis slept like one of his saints, flat on his back with his hands clasped on his chest. It’d freaked her out, when she was a kid; he looked like he was dead. No, she’s not gonna think like that.

She pokes through what Luis calls his “inbox” – just a wine box, cut down so it’s a shallow tray for paperwork to accumulate in. On the top there’s two checks from garage customers. Sizeable amounts and he’s not even bothered to cash ‘em. She snorts. Stirs a finger around through the papers until something catches her eye and her breath. It’s an envelope from TriStar Southern Hills Medical Center. There’s nothing in it. Her jaw tightens. So. Something is wrong and she’s gonna have to wrestle it out of him. That’ll take some doing. And some time.

Fine. It’ll be her birthday soon. Why not celebrate with Luis? Not that it’s actually her birthday. Who knows when that is, but the day that Luis Torres – home for a little while, taking a break from the Red Nights, to look after a mentor who’d broken a hip – had opened his mentor’s front door and found a baby that he’d named Winnifred, after one of his favourite saints, is good enough a birthday for Fred.

That’s why, really, when Fred opens the front door the morning of her birthday, she thinks it’s a joke. It’s just too much of an echo. A baby on the doorstep. Well, a big man with a tired face and a warm smile standing on the stoop with a baby in his arms. A foundling. Oh, she just knows it. Sure. Sure. Here she is, home for her birthday, and she’s greeted by a foundling on the doorstep, just like Luis all those years ago. ¡Dios! she’s even holding Luis’ favourite coffee mug in her hand, the one he was holding when he found her. Nope. She crosses her arms and gives the man a little bit of a smirk and a little bit of a glower. “Oh, chupa mi pito,” she says, “Very funny. I s’pose Luis put you up to this?” She turns a little and hollers down the hallway, “Luuuuuiis! Your hiiilarious birthday prank is here. Should I invite him in?” She turns and looks the man up and down – “And hey, if he’s one of your set up attempts, I might not even object.” She grins, a little sharp toothed maybe, but not entirely nastily.

#lwdbio

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sxypigeon · 4 years ago

Text

Overwatch Mojave

Summary: Set in the Mojave after the events of Fallout New Vegas, Angela just wants a simple life working in a hospital - the NCR and Ms. House have other plans. Fortunately she has Jesse, Baptiste, and Roseline to keep her sane when she has to play host to a NCR spy - Captain Amari's daughter, Fareeha. How hard could it be to keep a spy safe in enemy territory while still staying in her ex's, Ms. House, good graces?

***

There’s a moment in nearly everyone’s life when they wonder if they made the right choices, if they should have done that one thing differently.

It’s just a little farther. Hold on, Jesse.

Usually self-reflection was considered a helpful tool, proof of emotional maturity, but when utilized while half-dragging your injured best friend through endless miles of scrub brush an hour before dawn, it’s just fucking irritating.

“Are you sure this is the way?” Ana asked tersely as Gabriel led their group up a narrow highway.

Their moody, de facto leader didn’t bother looking back as he continued to scan their surroundings. “Dr. Zeigler, would you reassure the Captain that we are, in fact, going the correct way?”

Ana sighed tiredly and fell back to the medic and wounded soldier. Gently pushing Angela out from under Jesse’s good arm, Ana took her place. “Well?”

Angela surveyed the dark, arid landscape from east to west. The terrain looked almost exactly like it did five hours ago - dry and sandy with low bushes of sage and yucca illuminated by a gibbous moon. “There aren’t many roads off the 15 this far south,” she muttered before stretching her aching back - Jesse had been leaning awfully heavily on her the last three hours. “And I recognize those rock formations in the distance. There should be a small town ahead.” The Valley of Fire she remembered it was called - they were almost to the border of the Mojave territory.

“We’d better be there soon if we want to make it before dawn,” Jack growled from the rear.

Reinhardt groaned in agreement just behind the medic. “I would like to avoid another midday desert march.”

Gabe kept his eyes ahead, scanning for people and wildlife. “All of you, quit your belly-aching. I can see the town from here.”

It was unnerving, the lack of quips or snarky comments from their youngest soldier. “How are you holding up, Jess?” Angela muttered quietly.

His pale, flushed face tightened. “Been better.” Drenched in sweat with an arm in a sling, he looked moments from collapsing as the group entered the ruins.

The small, abandoned township of Moapa Valley used to be a popular stop for traders and settlers alike until a fanatical dictator and his army burned it to the ground over a decade ago in his quest for Mojave domination. They continued past the blackened and sun-bleached ruins further southwest down the crumbling, uneven road.

“It’s up here,” Gabe said ten minutes later, pointing to a group of pueblos on a little ridge.

Jesse stared miserably at the steep road in front of them. “Shit.”

Heavy footsteps approached from behind. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, little one.” Before Jesse could stop him, Reinhardt, already carrying most of the group’s supplies, had the injured soldier in his arms.

Angela and Ana shared a weak smile before following the near giant’s silhouette with Jack.

Sand-colored, square huts lined the edge of the ridge next to a small rundown museum - the only area to have escaped the town’s fiery fate. Reyes stepped out from the more modern building, once a small museum or visitor center. “It’s clear. Bring him inside.”

Without medical supplies, there was little Angela could do for the infected bullet wound in Jesse’s left forearm. The best she could do was push fluids, in the form of prickly pear pulp, and make him as comfortable as possible. As her patient drifted off, Angela approached the others around a small fire of yucca leaves.

“His fever is getting worse. I don’t think he’ll make it to Los Angeles,” she muttered softly as she took a strip of brahmin jerky from Jack.

“Jack and I could go out on our own and get some supplies,” Gabe offered as he roasted a prickly pear.

“If Jesse wasn’t willing to let me whore myself out to that caravan driver yesterday for antibiotics,” Angela said with a shudder, “I doubt he’d approve of you stealing or killing for it.”

“None of us were going to let you,” Ana said simply. “The nerve of the bastard, he’s lucky we didn’t kill him on the spot.”

“I suppose that’s why he had so many guards,” Reinhardt grumbled. “No honor whatsoever.”

“Jesse can’t approve or disapprove of anything if he’s dead,” Jack pointed out to bring them back on topic.

Angela rubbed her hands over the fire. “No, but he has his principles and I doubt even the threat of death would make him compromise them.”

“Well, oh wise and knowledgeable one, what do you propose?” Gabe asked drily.

She bit her lip and took a breath. “We go to Freeside.” A settlement just outside the walls surrounding New Vegas, in the heart of the Mojave territory.

“Out of the question,” Jack stated harshly.

“I have connections there and-”

“And the Mojave is crawling with bounty hunters looking for NCR soldiers to bring to Ms. House,” Ana said evenly. “We won’t make it within ten miles of Freeside.”

“Not wearing your armor,” Angela admitted, “but if we ditch it here-”

“All it will take is one skirmish and we’ll all be dead.” Ana sighed and shook her head. “Even without our armor, some may still recognize us from the Mojave Campaign. We were there for over a decade before that courier betrayed us all.”

“Betrayed? The NCR had been practicing imperialism for years! It’s not Ms. House’s fault the NCR wouldn’t take no for an answer!”

“Ladies, now is not the time,” Jack said as he ran a hand through his short beard. “Ana is right, Angela. Hatred for us is too strong there to have any hope of making it to Freeside.”

“Maybe not as a group,” Gabe countered, “but maybe if Angela and I take Jesse, we might make it.”

“And split up the group?!” Reinhardt shouted. “There are so few of us left already!”

“We will lose Jesse if we don’t do something,” Angela stressed. “It will take too long to go around Lake Mead. Freeside is a two day walk from here. LA is a week at least.”

Jack huffed. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t either,” Angela admitted, “but we are out of caps and have nothing of value left to trade. There isn’t a NCR friendly outpost for at least the next seventy-five miles. The caravans wouldn’t even give us a fair deal if we had caps. This is our best option.”

The group fell silent as the fire continued to snap and crackle. Angela pulled her knees to her chest and sighed tiredly as she reminded herself why she was in this predicament.

This whole expedition had felt like a mistake from the beginning. Another attempt by the New California Republic to expand its territory, this time Salt Lake City. Angela never would have agreed to come if not for Jesse’s begging. “Our medics are some of the greenest I’ve ever seen, Angie. I’m pretty sure I saw one faint at the sight of a paper-cut. Other than them, all we have is Captain Amari and you know what she’s like. Please, Angie? I’ll never ask for anything from you ever again.” Damn those big, puppy-dog eyes and his boyish charm.

So she left her position at Angel’s Boneyard Medical University and followed him and his garrison across mountains and barren deserts, all while fighting raiders and radiation-mutated wildlife, to Utah’s biggest settlement. They did not find a warm welcome, but they were given a task to prove the NCR’s sincerity to its pledge to protect the settlement. They were told to venture to the outskirts of their civilization and hunt raiders. Things just went downhill from there.

“I’m going with Angela to Freeside,” Gabe announced as he stood. “Do you think he’ll be able to walk the whole way?”

Angela lifted her head in shock before she shook it. “No.”

“Then let’s get a stretcher built.” The others watched him go with frowns before Angela stood to follow.

“Keep them safe, Angela,” Ana whispered.

The medic paused and gave the other three a pained smile. “I’ll try.”

***

Three years later

***

A pair of tanned arms engulfed the weary medic from behind as she sat at her desk filling out supply request forms. “How is my favorite doctor in the world doing this fine evening?”

Angela rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight the smile that spread across her face. “I don’t know, Jesse, how is Dr. Augustin?”

“I’m great - thanks for asking,” Baptiste said with a grin as he placed a fresh mug of coffee in front of the lead medic.

“Well if that’s the case, I suppose this bag of goodies must be for him,” Jesse said in a slow drawl as he released her and dropped a small canvas bag on her desk.

Angela stared at it in confusion before her eyes went wide in glee. “You didn’t.”

He chewed the stub of his cigar a moment before smiling. “You know, I just might have.”

The medic let out an undignified screech of excitement before lunging at the bag. Trembling hands slowly removed the lid of a tattered styrofoam box. Words failed her for a moment as she inspected the contents. “Jesse, I love you,” she whispered.

“I know, darlin’. Happy Birthday,” he said before kissing the top of her head.

A single bar of dark chocolate sat inside the small, temperature-controlled box. It was an expensive luxury she had rarely allowed herself while living in LA, one she hadn’t indulged in since she left nearly five years ago. With the Mojave heat, no traders bothered trying to bring it to the New Vegas region.

Baptiste chuckled as he dragged a chair over to Angela’s desk for Jesse. “In the three years I’ve known Angela, I’ve never seen her this excited. Is it really her birthday?”

The former soldier sat and put his boots up on the corner of her desk. “A few days ago. I kind of doubt she even remembered it.” The two men watched Angela slowly unwrap the top of the bar before sniffing it like a fine cigar. “I almost forgot how ridiculous she gets about this stuff.”

“Let me enjoy myself,” she whispered a bit breathlessly.

“Well, I’ve got a bit more news to share when you’re done drooling over that candy bar.”

She huffed and took a small bite of a corner, letting it melt in her mouth. “Oh, gooood,” she moaned in a low voice.

A silhouette appeared at the tent entrance. “What is going on in here?”

Jesse and Baptiste stared at each other before glancing at Angela. The younger doctor said in his serious I’m-speaking-to-a-patient voice, “Dr. Ziegler is having a food-induced orgasm, babe. Let her have her moment.”

“How have you been, Roseline?” Jesse asked with his widest grin. “Still as pretty as a pre-war picture I see.”

“I’m fantastic, Mr. McCree,” she said as she stood next to Baptiste. “Will our esteemed colleague be going for two? If so, I’d like to remind her to lower her voice as there are children in the camp,” she stated, matching her husband’s tone.

With a rapidly reddening face, Angela swallowed and shook her head, “Ah, no. I apologize - it won’t happen again.”

Roseline gave a snort of laughter, “What, have an orgasm? For your sake I hope you do.”

Angela sighed and let her head fall into her hands atop her desk. “I liked it better when you both thought I was humorless and unapproachable. I blame you for changing that, Jesse.”

“You’re very welcome, Angie.”

“So what were you eating-”

“Dark chocolate,” Jesse supplied. “A birthday present.”

Roseline frowned, “Wait, your birthday? Are you saying we missed a valid reason to get you drunk and take you to the Strip?”

“I forgot,” Angela muttered.

“Well it can’t be tonight since it’s half over. Tomorrow then. Jesse, you’re welcome to come as long as you keep your hands off my husband.”

“Hey, now,” he sputtered. “That was one time and I thought he was someone else-”

“He was the only black man in the room! Who did you think he was?” Roseline laughed.

Jesse opened his mouth in defense, then shut it, before asking a bit meekly, “There is no right answer to that question, is there?”

“No, there isn’t.”

“I was very flattered,” Baptiste offered.

“Thanks. ” He took a moody sip from his flask. “You know, I’m pretty sure Angela is far worse than I am with you, Roseline.”

Angela’s head shot up. “Jesse!”

“Oh she is, but she has the sense not to act on it,” Roseline said with a shit-eating grin. “That’s why I’m her wing-woman every time we go out. Getting her laid helps ease the sexual tension.”

Angela rubbed her face again and groaned. “Jesse, didn’t you have important news to tell me?”

“Oh, right.” He sat up in his chair and handed her a letter with a NCR logo. “You’re about to have company.”

“Me? Not you?” She took the letter and scanned it. A letter from Jack, on behalf of the current president, asking her to house a soldier on a covert mission in the Mojave. “You have to be kidding me. This isn’t real, it can’t be.”

Jesse gave her a sympathetic smile, “You are still technically a citizen of the NCR, even here in Freeside. Being a Follower of the Apocalypse doesn’t change that.”

She felt her frown deepen. “Why aren’t you housing this . . . spy?”

“Well, that’s on account of the NCR thinking I’m dead, remember? I go by Joel whenever I make the trip home.”

“Private citizens aren’t supposed to be forced to house soldiers unless there is an active war going on,” Angela said with a pout.

“The NCR and Ms. House never signed a treaty. Technically the war is still going even if no one is openly fighting.”

Baptiste patted her shoulder comfortingly, “If you want, Ros and I could poison them and make it look like an accidental overdose.”

Angela smiled miserably. “That’s very kind of you, but I do have people if I need to make someone disappear.”

His smile disappeared. “Seriously?”

“She’s talking about me, Doc. No need to worry,” Jesse chimed in.

“Not who I was thinking of, but sure,” she muttered under her breath. “The letter doesn’t say when to expect them or who they are.”

Jesse leaned forward and spoke in a harsh whisper, “Well, I do know a bit of that, but we have to be quiet about it and you have to promise not to make me kill her.”

Angela glared at him and arched an eyebrow.

He sighed heavily. “You remember Ana’s daughter, right?”

Did she remember Ana’s daughter? Faree . . . Farah . . . no, it was- “Fareeha. Five years younger and five inches taller than me? I thought Ana was rather protective of her. I’m surprised she let her take the mission.”

“I’ll let her explain that one to ya. She was supposed to travel with me but got held up with last minute updates on the mission or something. She should be here by the end of the week. I’m gonna meet her at the border and escort her myself to the camp.”

“ Oh, joy. ”

“At least it’s someone we know. She’s a good kid.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Having not seen her in nearly ten years, I’ll have to take your word on that.”

“Well, take it how you will, but I need to get going if I’m gonna get any sleep before I set out in the morning.” Jesse stood and nodded to the married couple. “Always nice seeing you folks - take care now.”

Angela stood as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

The desert air was finally beginning to cool as the sun set behind the mountains and old Las Vegas residential ruins, not enough to be comfortable in Angela’s opinion, but not hot enough to melt the rubber soles of your shoes on the asphalt anymore.

Jesse lit a cigar as they walked. “We really need to stop making passes at straight, married people, don’t we?”

“I don’t make passes at anyone,” Angela corrected. “I just get caught staring and then get flustered when Ros smirks at me.” She sighed dejectedly. “But why are you still hitting on Baptiste if you’re trying to get with that casino owner on the strip?”

“Because Mr. Shamada is playing hard to get,” he pouted. “I have poured every ounce of my considerable charm on him and still nothing.”

“Maybe he’s straight?”

“Nope, got word from his brother he ain’t. Him I get along with famously.”

Angela patted his shoulder soothingly, “I guess it’s either more persistence or find a new love-of-your-life.”

“Your love advice is as helpful as ever, Angie.”

“ Annnd that is the extent of my sympathy.”

They reached the gate of the Old Moron Fort and stopped. “You could stay the night, you know?” Angela said softly.

“Nah, I’ve spent enough time here to last a lifetime,” Jesse muttered, a dark look crossing his face. “I’m surprised you’re still here to be honest.”

Angela shoved her hands in the pockets of her cargo pants and looked back at the makeshift hospital. “Now that Ms. House doesn’t harass me daily, it’s not so bad here. I’ve never felt so useful anywhere else.”

“If you say so.” Jesse let out a deep breath of smoke before pulling Angela into his arms one last time. “Seriously though, happy birthday. Try to have some fun before I get back with your guest, okay?”

“Like I have a choice,” she laughed. “Ros won’t rest until I get laid, so I think I have my bases covered.”

“Good. I’ll see you in a few days.”

“I’ll look forward to it nonetheless. Stay safe, Jesse.”

She watched him saunter past the guards with a wistful smile. Angela missed the days of traveling by his side, of just traveling in general. Since arriving with Reyes and an injured Jesse three years ago, the furthest she’d been from the Fort was the Strip . . . usually to drink with her coworkers or for sex. At first she stayed to pay off her debt to the medics who provided the antibiotics needed to save Jesse’s life, but eventually the field hospital began to feel like home - a home filled with recovering drug addicts and mugging victims, but a home nonetheless.

New Vegas and the Mojave territory were a far cry from the civility of the NCR, but there was a freedom here, a feeling of endless opportunity even after all these years that kept her here. The NCR, while noble in its foundation, had become corrupt with President Kimball and was ruled more by the cattle barons than popular vote. The Mojave in comparison was ruled simply by Ms. House, untouchable and incorruptible (or already corrupted depending on your opinion). She remained hands-off unless the sovereignty of her territory was threatened . . . or unless Angela asked nicely. Being Ms. House’s ex wasn’t all bad.

“I don’t suppose you’d be willing to share any of that chocolate, would you?” Baptist asked when she made it back to her desk.

She smiled and carefully packed the candy back in its styrofoam box. “I would literally give you the last sip of water from my canteen if we were both stranded in the desert, but it will be a cold day in hell before I share an ounce of dark chocolate.”

“Ouch.”

***

I'm not sure if I'll continue this, but I really liked how the first chapter came together so I hope you enjoyed it. If you didn't, feel free to let me know that, too. Thanks, for reading!

#Overwatch #fallout new vegas #angela ziegler #jesse mccree #baptiste

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